


Without Losing a Piece of Me

by edgarallanrose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adult Language, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternative Universe - FBI, Angst, Bookstore Owner Castiel, Castiel is Claire Novak's Parent, Christmas, Cults, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2016, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, FBI Agent Dean Winchester, Holidays, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Religious Cult, Sexual Content, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 19:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8590210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgarallanrose/pseuds/edgarallanrose
Summary: Dean Winchester is an FBI agent who is part of the Joint Terrorism Task Force based in Sacramento, CA. He’s always lived his life by one rule: dudes are alright for a good time, but he won’t date them. That is, until he meets handsome and intelligent bookstore owner Castiel who might be an exception to that rule. Dean wants to overcome his demons and find happiness, but there always seems to be an obstacle in the way. Especially when some dark truths about Castiel’s past are exposed that could not only threaten their relationship, but Dean’s investigation and career as well.





	1. Like Kids on Concrete

**Author's Note:**

> Acknowledgements: 
> 
> Yeesh, well, here it is! My first ever DCBB! And my longest chaptered fic. First and foremost I have to thank Marmatoad who did the absolutely GORGEOUS art featured in this fic. She was such a joy to work with and all of her pieces came out beautifully! This is also my first time collaborating with an artist and to see the scenes I had written brought to life was such a cool experience. Check out her art masterpost [here](http://marmatoad.tumblr.com/post/153361849593/dcbb-2016-title-without-losing-a-piece-of-me). Secondly, much thanks to my beta, Maddie, who has had to deal with me yammering about this story since its conception. Much thanks as well to my sister, Lil, and my pal, Spooky D, who also listened to me whine and kvetch even though they don't know anything about Supernatural. All of you were so, so supportive and you don't know how much I appreciate your encouragement.
> 
> Last but not least I have to acknowledge Mr. Troye Sivan whose song "Heaven" provided the title and chapter titles of this work. He's a stand up guy and his songs are great. Thank you, Troye.

                  

A small bell tinkled above Dean as he entered Birds of a Feather Bookstore. He winced. The bell completely disturbed the kind of sacred quiet that Dean always associated with small, local bookstores. Even the dust was still. Not that Dean visited a lot of bookstores nowadays, but there was a time growing up when he had become something of a connoisseur. Whenever Dad was gone, he could drop Sammy off at any one of them and have him entertained for hours. The more intimate and interesting the store, the longer Sam would want to stay.

It was a small space, the building looked more like a little house from the outside than a store, but it had high ceilings and tall windows that painted sunlight across the natural wood of the wall to wall bookcases. In the corner an iron spiral staircase led up to a loft that not only held more books, but also looked like a cozy reading nook. Yeah, Sam could have spent days here.

Sam would have also liked the fluffy, sandy haired cat that trotted up to greet him like he owned the place. Dean was not as big a fan.

“Ah, hi there cat. Please leave,” he said, politely as possible. The cat took this as an invitation to rub himself all over the bottom of Dean’s jeans.

“No, stop, dammit,” Dean tried to move away without stepping on the cat, but the damn thing kept getting underfoot. Dean’s eyes watered and his nose itched.

“I’m sorry, is he bothering you?” A deep voice called from the back of the store.

Dean was sneezing too much to reply. Footsteps approached and there was an indignant _mew_ as the cat was picked up off the floor, but Dean couldn’t keep his eyes open long enough to see who was talking to him.

“Are you allergic?”

Dean nodded and tried to laugh, but it only came out as another sneeze.

“My apologies,” the man mumbled. “Let me put him in the storeroom.”

The man retreated and Dean slowly recovered himself, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. As he blinked the man reappeared from the back.

“There are tissues on the counter if you need them,” he said.

He was more handsome than any guy who owned a bookstore with a cat had a right to be. Well-built and maybe an inch shorter than Dean, he had a mess of dark hair and eyes so shockingly blue he could probably kill a man if he just glared hard enough.

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” Dean said, quickly locating the tissues and stuffing a few up his nose. The man stared. Dean struck a pose, angling his face this way and that for a full view of the tissues stuck in his nostrils. “It’s a good look on me, huh?”

“Don’t worry. I have a teenage daughter. I’ve seen weirder looks.” The man’s eyes crinkled in a small smile. “Can I help you with anything today?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” Dean reached for the post-it note in his pocket. “I was wondering if you might have these. They’re text books.”

The man examined the titles before nodding.

“This way.”

Dean followed him to the back of the store, eyeing some of the other bookcases and displays as they went.

“Are you studying law?”

“No, these are for my little brother. It’s his final year at Stanford,” Dean said.

“That’s very kind of you to help him purchase his books.”

“Well, he dropped out for a few years, but I told him if he cleaned up his act and wanted to finish I would help him as much as I could. I got a job transfer out here to Sacramento so I could be a little closer to him.”

“You’re a very good brother.”

“Yeah, well –“ Dean shrugged lamely. This was somehow more embarrassing than having tissues shoved up his nose. “Ya know I go by this place almost every day, but I’d never had an excuse to come in.”

“Oh?”

“I’m a regular at the bar around the corner, The Bunker. The only reason I noticed it is ‘cause you still had the lights on when I was leaving last night around midnight.”

“Yes, a bad habit of mine. I live in the apartment above the bookshop so it’s hard to separate work from home. I tend to lose track of time and end up being here a little later than intended.”

“I’d say.”

“Here you go,” he said, handing Dean two huge and undoubtedly stupid expensive books. “Did you want to get anything for yourself while you’re here?”

“Me? Nah. Sammy, my brother, got the book smarts. I only read when it’s work related.”

The man frowned.

“You don’t need a Stanford education to enjoy reading. Besides, you seem perfectly intelligent in your own right.”

“Um,” Dean muttered eloquently and stared at the floor. Handsome bookstore man seemed to take pity on him.

“I’ll ring you up. We can find something for you next time.”

Dean tried not to think about the price as he handed over his credit card.

“I’m Castiel Novak. By the way,” the man said as he bagged his books.

“Castiel,” Dean repeated, smiling at the feel of the name on his tongue. He offered Castiel his hand. “Dean Winchester.”

Castiel accepted his hand with a smile of his own.

“Nice to meet you, Dean Winchester. Stop by again sometime. You don’t even have to have an excuse.”

Dean flushed. Was the guy flirting? Or just being nice? He said he had a daughter, so he probably didn’t swing that way. This was the part Dean was always shit at.

“Oh, and Dean?”

He raised his eyebrows, a small flutter of hope in his stomach.

“Yeah?”

“You might want to remove the tissues from your nose before you go back outside.”

He couldn’t even remember what he mumbled to him as he left.

\---

The next time Dean walked into the store there was a young girl at the front desk playing with that fluffy menace, Chuck. If it hadn’t been for the damn bell on the door Dean probably would have been able to escape without being noticed.

“Can I help you?” She asked, her tone bored. She twisted the ends of her long, blond hair, half of it braided into cornrows on one side of her head.

“I was just…uh…is Castiel here?” He asked, eyeing Chuck warily. Chuck perched innocently on the edge of the desk, placid blue eyes peering out from his smushed face. Dean wasn’t buying it for a minute.

“Sure,” the girl said, turning her head to the back of the store and shouting, “DAD! GUY HERE ASKING FOR YOU.”

He had planned on strolling in here like it was completely casual and not at all premeditated; like he hadn’t carefully been planning his return in the week since he had first come in. Some “best laid plans” bullshit came to Dean’s mind and he grimaced.

“Claire, what have I said about shouting in the – Oh, hello…Dean, right?” Castiel seemed to appear as if by magic from the labyrinth of bookshelves.

“Hey,” Dean said. Or tried to say before he was sneezing again. _Smooth, real smooth._

“Claire, can you go put Chuck away please?” Castiel asked.

“Why? Chuck didn’t do anything, I put those books back.”

“No – what books? Never mind, it’s just that Dean is allergic.”

Claire looked back and forth between the two men, eyes widening.

“You know this guy? Dad, did you make a _friend_?”

“Claire,” Castiel said wearily, “please.”

“You hear that Chuck?” She said to the cat, cradling him in her arms as she walked to the back of the store. “Grumpy daddy made a friend!”

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose and Dean chuckled.

“So that’s the teenager then,” Dean said.

“Yes, that would be her. I, perhaps misguidedly, thought it would be nice to spend more time with her by having her work here with me after school. Anyway, what can I do for you today, Dean?”

Dean desperately tried to ignore the chill he got down his spine when he heard Castiel’s gravelly voice say his name.

“Well, my brother called me today saying he got his text books and I was telling him what a cool place you’ve got here,” he may have said more about the bookstore _owner_ than the actual bookstore, “and he convinced me to come back and get something for myself.”

Castiel smiled, wide and genuine. Dean’s chest ached.

“Excellent. What were you looking for?”

“I’m not really sure. Been a long time since I read anything for fun.”

Castiel nodded with an “mmm” or two, already moving down rows of bookshelves, fingers trailing down the spines as he went.

“Is there a genre you like? A writer or subject?”

“Well…I like horror movies? And sci-fi I guess.”

“Good, that’s good,” Castiel’s face lit up, “name your favorites.”

“Well I usually go for the classics, you know Vincent Price, House on Haunted Hill shit. And nothing can hold a candle to Star Trek: The Original Series. But I like some of the new stuff too.”

“Then perhaps,” Castiel said thoughtfully, chewing on the side of his cheek, “we should start you with the classics here as well. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein aaand --” he placed the novel in Dean’s hands and bent down to retrieve another book. Dean gave himself a pat on the back for not staring too overtly at his ass. “A collection of Poe’s short stories.”

“Um, as good as I’m sure these are, you don’t think they’ll be a little beyond me?” Dean asked, staring doubtfully at the very serious looking books in his hands. “I ain’t no academic or anything.”

“Just try them,” Castiel said.

\---

Dean couldn’t put the books down. Frankenstein had started dubiously -- _why the hell is everything written like a letter?_ \-- but soon he found himself enraptured. It was a thousand times better than any monster movie it had inspired. All things considered, he was getting through it pretty slowly, but he was still getting through it.

It was a slow day at the field office. Dean had a report due by the end of the day, but it was just another update on the fact that they had no new leads on the potential domestic terrorism cases that had been reported in Fresno last month. Dean was positive that a group called the Garrison that had been on cult-watch for years was responsible, but he had no proof. The report could wait.

Dean put his feet up on his desk and cracked open his book. Agent Bradbury, the other investigator on the case and his closest friend, had been teasing him all morning.

“Little town,” she sang at him, “it’s a quiet village.”

“Shaddup, Bradbury.”

“Everydaaaay like the one before!”

“Charlie, c’mon, this is a good bit and I can’t concentrate.”

“He’s a beauty, but a funny boy that Deeeaan!”

“Listen. Your talent for reciting literally every movie you’ve ever seen ain’t cute.”

“I am fucking adorable, Winchester,” she retorted. “But for real, who can I think for getting you into my girl, Mary? You know she was only nineteen when she wrote that?”

“Really?”

“Damn straight. A teenage girl invented science fiction. Never forget.”

“I won’t. I wonder if Cas knew that. I bet he did, he’s a smart guy.”

“Cas?” Charlie raised an eyebrow. She was trying to keep her cool but was practically bouncing with excitement. She loved any excuse to be nosy.

“Um…Castiel.” Dean wasn’t sure how the nickname had slipped out. He hadn’t realized until that moment that it was what he had been calling him in his head. “He owns the bookstore around the corner from The Bunker.”

“Oh my God! I know him. He lets us play D&D upstairs once a month! He’s such a sweetheart. And I always thought he was…dreamy. Don’t you think?” Charlie clasped her hands together and batted her eyelashes. Dean knew he was blushing, but he tried to cover with an eye roll.

“I don’t know.” Dean did know. “And how the hell would you know if he’s dreamy?”

“Um, excuse me. I can still appreciate the goods even if I’m not looking to buy.”

“That’s…a weird analogy. But okay.”

Agent Henriksen from Homeland Security popped his head over the top of Dean and Charlie’s cubicle. Dean nearly fell out of his chair trying to right himself and Charlie collapsed in a fit of laughter. Henriksen opened his mouth like he was going to comment, but shook his head and decided against it.

“Hey, Winchester,” he said, “you done with that file on the March 16th incident?”

“Uh, not yet, I’m just wrapping up the report now. I’ll get it to you in an hour.”

“Sure you will.” Henriksen smirked before lowering himself back down into his respective cubicle. Charlie giggled again. If it had been anyone else catching him goofing off they might have tattled to A.D. Singer, but Henriksen was a decent guy. Dean thanked his lucky stars and went to look for the file he was supposed to be working on.

Charlie flicked a pencil eraser at Dean to get his attention back.

“So are you gonna go back and see him again?”

“I mean…probably. He wanted to know how I liked the books so-“ he shrugged noncommittally.

“You dog. You should bring him out to The Bunker for a date so I can watch, give advice.”

“Okay, for one thing, that’s creepy as hell, Bradbury-”

“-I am an excellent advice giver. Which you would know if you ever actually followed my advice-“

“-and secondly, you know my rule.”

Charlie heaved a sigh.

“For fuck’s sake, not this again.”

“Dudes are alright for a good time, but I don’t date ‘em.”

“And yet, you still can’t give me a good reason why.”

Dean clenched his jaw, flipping through the pages of the file. He wasn’t even really reading it. Charlie waited a few seconds to see if Dean would speak, and when he didn’t she backed off.

This wasn’t the first time Dean and Charlie had had this argument, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but Charlie was still the only person he could talk to about this. Sam knew, he had figured it out on his own, but it wasn’t something he had ever actually discussed with him. If Dean had his way, he never would.

\---

“And then Andrea says – brother, you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, sorry Benny.  I had a late night at the office, so I’m a little out of it.”

Benny shook his head sympathetically as he pulled some oysters out the fryer. Dean sat at the counter across from the small kitchenette of Benny’s Cajun Café as he assembled Dean’s po’ boy.

“No worries. Comes with the territory I guess.”

“Sure does.”

Dean was tired, but that wasn’t why he had spaced out. He had been debating something all morning, and he had finally decided he was going to act on it.

“Hey, Benny, would you mind whipping up a shrimp po’ boy too? And wrapping both up to go?”

“You got it. Saving one for later? ‘Cause you know these don’t really keep.”

“No, I thought I’d surprise somebody with lunch,” Dean said with a wink. Benny chuckled.

“Found a new lady friend?”

Dean’s stomach dropped, but his smile stayed fixed on his face.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Well you’re on the right track, brother. Good Cajun food is the way to any woman’s heart. How do you think I got my Andrea?”

“It wasn’t your rugged charms and winsome smile?”

“Hell no.”

They both laughed. Benny handed him both of the sandwiches in a paper bag.

“You bring your beau by sometime after you’ve won her over, ya hear?”

Dean tried not to wince.

“You bet, Benny.”

\---

Claire was blessedly absent when Dean arrived at the bookstore. Cas was leaning with his elbows on the counter, paperback in hand and reading glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Dean didn’t even know he had a thing for the sexy librarian look until that very moment.

“Dean,” Cas said, a smile spreading slowly across his face when he saw him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, I was out getting lunch and they screwed up my order so I had them make me something new. They gave me both of the sandwiches and I’ve got about an hour break right now so I figured I’d stop in and see if you needed some lunch,” Dean lied. He had been thinking up this plot for several days.

Cas beamed at him. Totally worth the plotting.

“I would love that, Dean. There’s a table upstairs we can sit at. And Chuck doesn’t go upstairs so hopefully you’ll be able to tolerate being here for a little while.”

“Awesome.”

Cas wanted him to stay _for a little while_. Dean was so in there.

Dean followed Cas up to the loft, which was actually a lot bigger than it seemed to be from downstairs. Behind a set of bookcases there was a full sized dining room table, which Dean assumed was where Charlie must play her D&D games.

“So where is it you work? I’ll admit I didn’t recognize you at first when you came in.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot, you hadn’t seen the monkey suit yet,” Dean realized, looking down at his navy suit and dark gray tie. Hardly his nicest suit, but a significant departure from the ripped jeans and flannel shirts he wore on his days off. “I know it sounds like a lie, but I’m a federal investigator.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows.

“Wow. What do you…investigate?”

“I’m part of Sacramento’s Joint Terrorism Task Force. Which sounds way more interesting than it actually is. We can talk about something else.”

“Whatever you’d like, Dean.” Cas gave him another one of those small, reserved smiles. Dean wondered what it would take to get the man to really let go.

“You good with a shrimp po’ boy?”

“I like shrimp, but I can’t say I’ve ever had one before.”

“Cas, I am about to change your life.”

They both unwrapped their sandwiches, still steaming from inside the aluminum foil. Dean postponed digging into his with his usual gusto in favor of watching Cas try his first bite. Big mistake. Cas closed his eyes and moaned, tilting his head back and exposing his throat as he swallowed. Dean had to dig his nails into his palm to keep himself together.

“Dean, this is so good.”

“Mhmm.” Dean didn’t trust himself with real words just yet.

“The bread alone…”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean said, his voice still too high pitched for his liking, “Benny, my buddy who owns the joint, has these baguettes sent in from his favorite bakery in New Orleans.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, these are legit.”

They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Dean caught Cas staring at him, but Cas only smirked when Dean met his eyes. It was Dean who finally had to break eye contact.

“You know,” he started, not even totally sure what he was about to say, “I should take you out to Benny’s sometime. He’s got this great gumbo recipe. And soft shell crab season is coming up and he does all these crazy specials with them when he gets them in, straight from the Gulf of course.”

“Of course,” Cas smiled shyly, “I would love to, Dean.”

Dean swallowed. Fuck. Had he just asked Cas on a date?

“Awesome. I’ll let you know when the crab comes in.”

Dean should be freaked out. Why wasn’t he freaked out?

They cleaned up lunch and said their goodbyes. Dean had to exercise great self-control to keep from reaching out to push those damn glasses back up Cas’ nose and not plant one on him right there. He settled for a handshake.

Dean’s panic came later when he realized the reason he hadn’t been freaking out was because he hadn’t been thinking of Cas as just some dude he could get off with. He was thinking of him as a nice person he wanted to take out and treat well. He _wanted_ to date Cas. Goddammit. He had been keeping his feelings away from men for thirty-two years, why couldn’t he do it now?

Dean was so fucked.


	2. Trying to Save Face and Daddy Heartbreak

Dean had become increasingly irritable at work. He hadn’t been sleeping well. Every night he had nightmares about his father. Even Charlie had let up on the teasing. When Singer had called him into the office to ask what had crawled up his ass Dean actually snapped at him.

“None of your goddamn business, Bobby.”

“Boy, you know I’m Assistant Director Singer to you when we’re at work.” Bobby eyed him warily. Dean took a deep breath and calmed down, taking a seat in front of Bobby’s desk.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Listen son, is this a work issue or a personal issue?”

“Personal,” Dean mumbled.

“Fine. Keep it that way. You don’t have to be rainbows and sunshine when you’re here, but you can keep that foul attitude at home, capisce?”

“Capisce.”

“However, if you need me after hours you know I’m here for you right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright. Enough of that. Back to work.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dean stayed late that night, burying himself deep in investigative reports in an effort to keep his mind distracted. Focusing on the work had always been easier than anything else. Sam had often expressed his concern, telling him that work wasn’t going to keep him warm at night. That Dean should find somebody to keep him grounded. That he deserved something more.

“What the hell do you know anyway, Sammy?” Dean mumbled out loud. He glanced around, belatedly realizing how crazy he must look talking to himself. Only then did he realize he was the only person left on the floor. The nighttime cleaning crew had already started vacuuming.

_ I guess that’s my cue to go,  _ he thought.

He slung his jacket over his shoulder, grabbed his bag and sighed.

He couldn’t go home. He needed a drink. Or five.

\---

He was secretly relieved to find that by the time he got to the Bunker that none of his coworkers were there. He didn’t want to talk to anybody. He ordered his whiskey neat and sat alone near the end of the bar.

He was four drinks in when he saw a younger guy staring at him from across the room. The guy winked and waved. He was a bit shorter than what Dean usually went for, but his dark brown hair caught his eye. Maybe this was what Dean needed. Just a quickie to remind him what was what. He asked for another whiskey.

Actually, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He hadn’t had a good lay in a while. That was probably why Cas had been affecting him so much. He just needed to get it out of his system and then he and Cas could just be friends. Perfect.

Dean knocked back the whiskey before sauntering across the room. The guy noticed him and grinned. Dean leaned closer to him than probably necessary.

“Hey,” he said, “I’m Dean.”

“Aaron,” he said. “I’m really glad I wasn’t imagining that little connection we had there.”

“Connection, huh?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t feel it too.”

“Oh, I’m feeling something alright.”

Aaron laughed and put his hand on Dean’s bicep, trailing his fingers up and down. He was probably just as drunk as Dean.

“I like the suit, handsome. Tough day at work?” Aaron asked.

“You could say that, yeah.”

“Can I help you relax?”

“God, I hope so. Wanna step outside, get some fresh air?”

“If by ‘fresh air’ you mean the backseat of your car, then hell yeah.”

Dean grinned, grabbing Aaron around his waist as they both stumbled out of the bar.

Car sex hadn’t been good when he was a teenager and it wasn’t any better at thirty-two. His sweaty skin stuck uncomfortably to the leather seats. He tried to focus on Aaron’s mouth around his cock but the only thought on his mind was going home and getting in the shower.

He rushed things. He flipped Aaron over and grabbed lube and condoms from the glove compartment. He prepped him just enough that it wouldn’t be painful before pushing himself in. He chased his relief as fast as he could, reaching around to jack Aaron at the same time. He wasn’t a complete asshole.

When Aaron spilled over his hand he pounded him faster until he came into the condom.

He barely allowed a full ten seconds before he was cleaning himself off and readjusting his clothes.

“That was…” Aaron trailed off. He was trying to be nice. Dean didn’t want nice.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I had fun, Dean.”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you…want my number?”

“Not really, no.”

“Alright.”

Aaron zipped up his pants and clamored drunkenly out of the car with a muttered “closeted dickwad.”

Dean put his head in his hands and tried not to cry. He felt dirty. What the hell was wrong with him?

He went back into the bar and lost count of the drinks he ordered _. Drowning his heartache in booze, just like Dad. _ He had to stop this once and for all. He started walking to Castiel’s bookstore.

\---

The door to the bookstore was locked, but the lights were still on. Dean knocked.

After a few seconds the door opened to reveal a very tired looking Cas. His hair was disheveled, like he had been running his hands through it all night, and he was only in a t-shirt and jeans. Dean’s mouth watered.

“Dean?” he said, eyes wide with concern, “are you alright?”

“Will be,” Dean slurred. He pushed himself into the bookstore. “Gotta fix something.”

“Are you…drunk?”

“No. Well, maybe a lil’ bit, but I can handle my liquor, ‘kay? You got that, Casssiel?”

“Okay, Dean.” He looked worried. Dean didn’t want him worried. He wanted him moaning his name and begging for more.

“Lissen Cas. Got a problem.”

“What kind of problem? Can I help?”

“Yeah. Yeah, ya know what, you can. ‘Cause I got a problem with you.” He poked Cas hard in the chest.

“Me?”

Dean pushed him up against a bookcase. Cas didn’t fight back.

“Can’t stop thinking about you,” Dean said. “And I don’t wanna think about you anymore.”

“Why’s that, Dean?”

“You’re a dude. Can’t be thinking so much about dudes.”

“Why not?”

Dean stared at Cas. Was he an idiot? How could he be so calm about this? Didn’t he see what a giant problem this was?

“You kidding? My old man would have my hide. This isn’t…this isn’t who I am, not who I’m supposed to be. Man of the house.”

Somewhere in the back of Dean’s head he knew he wasn’t making any sense, and Cas’ unending patience was only pissing him off.

“Dean. You’re drunk,” he said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “May I drive you home?”

“No, you’re not listening!” Dean yelled. Then more quietly, pleading, “Cas, you gotta help me.”

“Okay,” Cas sighed. “What do you need?”

Dean got down on his knees in front of Cas and brushed his fingertips against the skin of Cas’ stomach that was visible from where his t-shirt had been rucked up. Cas stayed very still.

“Just…just need you for a sec. I’ll make it real good, I swear. Just get you outta my system and be done. You never hafta see me again. Just real quick…”

Dean started unbuckling Cas’ belt and Cas pushed Dean’s hands away. Dean, not about to be put off his mission, tried again. Then, in a surprising show of strength, Cas grabbed both of Dean’s hands and spun them around so Dean’s back was against the bookshelf.

“Alright, we could do it this way too,” Dean said.

“No, Dean. You are very drunk and not thinking clearly,” Cas explained slowly, as if speaking to a child. Dean wanted to punch him in the face. “Where is your car? I am going to drive you home.”

“Fuck you,” Dean mumbled.

“Dean, please.”

“It’s around the fucking corner, alright?”

Cas locked up the bookstore and walked Dean to his car, putting his arm around Dean’s shoulders when he stumbled. Dean was too drunk to shake him off.

Dean blacked out for a bit, but must have been lucid enough to give Cas adequate directions because the next thing he knew he was waking up in his own bed. There was aspirin and water on his nightstand. He covered his eyes and groaned as the previous night’s memories hit him with the force of a semi-truck.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck.”

\---

Dean drove straight to the bookstore as soon as he was sure he was done puking. He could be an adult about this. Now that he was thinking rationally he was filled with shame about the night before. Cas had been more than tolerant of his behavior, and even if he never wanted to see Dean again he knew he should still apologize.

He took a deep breath before opening the door. There were two men at the counter talking to Castiel. Dean had caught them in what appeared to be a heated conversation. He had never seen Cas so tense. Their conversation came to an abrupt stop when they noticed Dean.

“As you can see, I have customers,” Cas said. His jaw was clenched so tightly Dean almost couldn’t hear him. “If you could please see yourselves out.”

“Think about what we said, Castiel,” one of them said. A large, bald Black man with a voice so deep Dean could feel it vibrate throughout the room.

They pushed past Dean, the Black man giving Dean a sidelong glance as he went. Dean frowned. The man looked extremely familiar, but he couldn’t place exactly why.

“Cas, if this is a bad time…”

“No, it’s alright,” Cas said. “How are you feeling?”

Dean laughed. Trust Cas to still care about how Dean was when he had no reason to even allow him in the bookstore anymore.

“Like a piece of shit. Physically and emotionally. I came to apologize.”

“You don’t have to –“ Cas tried to wave him off.

“No. I do. Listen, you don’t deserve to be treated that way. I’ve…well, I don’t really even have an excuse. I wish the whole thing had never happened and I’m sorry. I really like you, Cas.”

“Yes, I had inferred that on my own,” Cas smirked.

Dean stared at the floor, heat rising to his face.

“What I mean is, I’d still really like to be friends and –“

“Relax, Dean,” Cas said. “It was a joke.”

“Oh.”

“We can still be friends, Dean.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Just promise me one thing?”

“Sure, yeah, anything.”

“Next time you have a problem come to me. Not the bar.”

Cas had that concerned look again. As much as Dean wasn’t about to admit he might have a problem, and part of him wanted to yell at Cas for implying he did, a bigger part of him just didn’t want Cas to worry.

“Yeah, okay. I will.”

\---

Hardly a day went by where Dean didn’t visit the bookstore. He had gone through a full shelf of Castiel’s Sci-fi/Fantasy section. He offered to actually buy the books instead of reading them in the store, but Castiel insisted he liked the company.

He also met Claire’s friends who often volunteered at the bookstore for community service hours. Or as Cas liked to call it “community social hours” since most of the time they just ended up chatting instead of working.

“I don’t know,” Krissy said, absentmindedly putting books into piles on the floor around her, “I still think I’m more into Finn. He seems honest.”

“But how can you not want to fly away with Poe Dameron into the sunset? That  _ smile _ , come on!” Claire argued, opening another shipment box which Chuck proceeded to jump inside. Claire gently placed him back into one of the empty cardboard boxes.

“What about you, Alex?” Krissy asked.

Alex opened her mouth to speak, but Claire cut her off.

“Don’t even ask her. She’s into Kylo Ren.”

“Um, no, I’m into Kylo Ren  _ with  _ General Hux. It’s different,” she snarked. Claire glared at her. Alex rolled her eyes and amended. “But I mean, I’m also pretty hot for Kylo.”

The girls giggled.

“I think Rey’s kinda cute too,” Krissy said, almost too quiet for the other girls to hear. Dean looked up at that, ready to defend Krissy if he needed to. He saw Claire and Alex share a smile.

“Yeah, Rey is hella cute,” Alex said.

“You think so?”

“Totally,” Claire said.

Dean let out a sigh of relief; perhaps too noticeably because now Claire’s eyes were on him.

“What about you, Dean?” Claire asked. “Who’s the cutest new Star Wars character?”

“I dunno,” Dean shrugged. “I stick to the classics.”

“Come on, we know you’ve seen it,” Alex needled.

“I happen,” Cas said, interrupting their powwow and placing another box at their feet, “to agree with Claire. Poe is unarguably the cutest. Though he definitely competes with a young Harrison Ford in my mind.”

“Ew, Dad.” Claire scrunched up her face. Both of her friends rolled on the floor, laughing in fits. Cas caught Dean’s eye and gave him a wink. Dean immediately tried to return his attention to his book.

Krissy caught him outside about a week later. He was under the awning in front of the store watching a rainstorm.

“You alright?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’m good. Really good, actually. I just like the rain.”

“Me too.” They stood in silence for a minute. “Hey, can I bum a cigarette?”

“What?” Dean gave her the best disapproving-adult-glare he had. She didn’t seem impressed. “Sorry, kid, I don’t even smoke.”

“Seriously?” She raised an eyebrow. “You smell like an ashtray, my dude.”

“Shit,” Dean muttered. “I was at a bar last night, I wore this jacket. Didn’t think it stunk up that bad.”

Dean had been keeping his word to Castiel about visiting the bar. He had closed more nights with him at the bookstore than he could count, just talking instead of drinking. The previous night had been Henricksen’s birthday, so the task force had gone out for beers.

“Also,” Dean added, “a word of advice. Don’t try and bum cigarettes from the fucking FBI when you’re under eighteen.”

“Dean, you literally taught me how to pick a lock the other day.”

“Yeah, well –“

“And you taught all three of us how to escape handcuffs.”

“Listen, smart ass, there’s a time and a place for everything, okay? Those can be useful in more legal ways too.”

“Yeah, alright,” she snickered and turned back to the rain, leaning against the brick wall with her hands in the pocket of her hoodie.

Dean self-consciously sniffed at his jacket. It really did reek. He hadn’t even noticed when he threw it on that morning.

“Dammit,” he muttered. “You think Cas noticed?”

Krissy shrugged then gave him a look out of the corner of her eye.

“Are you dating Mr. Novak?”

“Uh, no. We’re just friends.”

“Do you wish you were dating Mr. Novak?”

“It ain’t that easy.”

“Oh.”

She looked upset. Dean remembered the Star Wars conversation and backtracked.

“For me, I mean. It’s not that easy. Not that…it has to be for other people.”

“Well what’s your issue?”

“I just…” Dean looked skywards. Why was he having this conversation with a sixteen-year-old girl? Why couldn’t God strike him where he stood?

When no heavenly smiting appeared from the sky, Krissy decided to save him instead.

“You don’t have to say. I get it. It’s the way people would look at you, right? Making assumptions?”

“You shouldn’t worry about that shit,” Dean said, shaking his head. “If you’re happy what does it matter?”

“I know.” Krissy gave him a sad smile.

“You could tell them, ya know. Claire and Alex. You guys are best friends, they wouldn’t have a problem.”

“I guess.” Krissy toed at a pebble with the edge of her sneaker. “I just don’t want them treating me different. It’s not like I’m crushing on them or anything.”

“I know what you mean. But it’s important to have people who support you no matter what. I don’t think anything’s gonna change with them, they’ve got your back.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She stepped away from the wall and looked up at Dean. “You should probably take your own advice once in a while, asshat.”

She gave him a quick hug before disappearing inside.

Dean smiled to himself. The rain was letting up a little when Cas came out to join him.

“What was that all about?” He asked.

“She just needed someone to talk to,” Dean said with a shrug.

“Mmm,” Cas hummed, crossing his arms. “It’s tough to talk to kids that age.”

“Not really. You just gotta listen and not talk down to them.”

“Huh.” Cas raised his eyebrows. “You must have had a very good father.”

Dean frowned before he could school his reaction. Cas noticed.

“Dean…”

“Hey, listen.” Dean plastered on a smile. “Remember that softshell crab I was telling you about? Benny’s got it in if that was something you still wanted to do.”

“I would like that, Dean.”

\---

Dean checked the time on his watch. Again. Cas was fifteen minutes late. Was it too soon to call? Maybe send a text?

“Don’t tell me you’re gettin’ stood up,” Benny said, returning to Dean’s table to refill his glass of water.

“No, I don’t think so. Probably just got held up or something,” Dean said with more confidence than he felt.

“Is this that friend you were talkin’ about?”

“Yeah, actually, it is. So don’t embarrass me too bad, alright?”

“Ain’t nothin’ I can do that’s worse than what you do on your own, brother.”

“Fair.”

Benny chuckled and checked on the booth behind Dean before coming back.

“So what’s her name then?”

Dean swallowed. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t warned Benny beforehand. He would know soon enough anyway.

“His name is Castiel.”

Benny at least had the decency to keep his reaction to a light, “Oh.”

It boiled Dean’s blood regardless.

“Is that gonna be a problem?”

“Of course not. I just didn’t know is all. Shit, I probably would’ve been more sensitive about some stuff if I had –“

“I don’t need your sensitivity, Benny.” Dean narrowed his eyes. “I’m not a fucking princess.”

“That’s not what I –“

“Look, if this is the way it’s gonna be I can just –“

“Dean.”

His voice was so much louder and firmer than his usual carefree drawl several of his customers actually jumped. He leaned in closer to Dean and lowered his voice.

“It seems to me the only one here with a problem is you and your defensive ass. Ain’t nobody here gives a shit what you do and who you do it with. Hell, I’d just love to see you happy for once. I am on your goddamn side, brother.”

Dean nodded, his throat too tight to speak.

“And if I ever hear you’re taking your dates anywhere else but here,” he said, straightening up and speaking at a normal volume again, “there’ll be Hell to pay, alright?”

“Alright.” Dean cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Benny. This is all just…really new to me.”

“Man, I don’t want your damn excuses. Buck up. Is that your beau coming down the sidewalk?”

Dean glanced out the window and, sure enough, Cas was walking towards the café. He was glaring at his phone and looked like he was in a hell of a mood, but at least he had come.

Benny surreptitiously edged away from the table as Cas entered. He saw Dean waiting and visibly relaxed.

“Hey, you okay?” Dean asked.

“Yes. I apologize for keeping you waiting,” he said, sliding into the booth. “I had a call.”

As if on cue his phone started buzzing in his hand again. He looked at the screen, frowned, and declined the call before turning his phone off.

“You sure you don’t need to take that?”

“I’m sure.” He smiled blandly. “How are you? How’s work?”

“Kind of quiet actually. In fact, I –“

“Hey there, welcome to Benny’s Cajun Café.”

Dean shook his head at Benny. Benny grinned.

“Can I get you started with anything?”

“I have been recommended your gumbo,” Cas said.

Benny’s face lit up.

“Two cups of gumbo and two of the softshell crab po’ boys,” Dean said.

“You got it, fellas.” As Benny took their menus, he added, “Nice to finally meet you. Dean hasn’t shut up about you for weeks.”

Dean groaned.

“Likewise,” Cas said, corner of his mouth tugging up into a smile.

Benny winked at Dean and Dean put his head in his hands. As Benny left Cas started to chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Dean said.

“Is what he said true, Dean?” he asked, still snickering.

“No!” Dean spluttered. “Well, not in the…I think he thinks he’s playing wingman. Which, I might add, is completely unnecessary.”

“Oh? Is that because you’re going to woo me all on your own?”

“First of all, don’t say ‘woo.’ Second, we’re just friends. Just two guys. Out on the town. Eating some kickass Cajun food.”

“Well you’re right about the food at least,” Benny said, placing the soup in front of them.

“Dammit, Benny, you are not helping,” Dean hissed.

“Enjoy!” he said.

Cas was almost full on belly laughing now. Dean couldn’t help but smile. Even if it was all at his expense it was worth it to see Cas so carefree.

They were just finishing up the gumbo (which Cas ended up loving) when Dean got a call on his work phone.

“Hey, sorry, I gotta take this,” Dean said. Cas nodded and Dean walked outside.

“Agent Winchester,” he answered.

“Winchester, there’s been a fire down at the volunteer clinic in Del Paso Heights. We know it was started on purpose and they think it’s our Garrison people,” Bobby said.

“Shit,” Dean muttered.

“Can you be here in 20?”

“Yeah, on my way.”

When Dean went back in the po’ boys were sitting on the table. Dean looked at them with regret before explaining the situation to Benny and telling him to wrap the extra one up and handed him some cash to cover the bill and tip.

“Hey, Cas, I am so sorry to do this to you, but I just got a call in from work,” Dean said.

Cas’ brow furrowed.

“That’s alright, Dean, I understand. Is everything alright?”

“This clinic got set on fire, third one in as many months. Pretty sure it’s tied to our investigation.”

Cas’ face scrunched up with worry.

“Be safe, Dean,” he said.

“I will. I’ll stop by and see you tomorrow, okay?”

He patted Cas on the shoulder and left before Cas could reply.


	3. Trying to Keep Faith and Picture His Face

Dean was tired to his bones. They were at the crime scene practically all night. Thankfully, everybody had evacuated the building in time and nobody was grievously injured, but the building was demolished. An accelerant was used, which their forensic team later confirmed was the same kind used in the past two incidents.

A promise was a promise though. So the next day Dean arrived at the bookstore after work.

He was greeted by Claire, who was sitting on the floor letting Chuck play with her shoelaces.

“Dad’s upstairs with the nerds,” she informed him.

At almost the same time he heard a high pitched, “Winchester!” from the loft.

“Bradbury?”

Charlie appeared on the balcony, her red hair done up in Princess Leia buns.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Could ask you the same,” he said, making his way up the spiral staircase.

“Um, it’s D&D night? Come on, join the campaign!” Charlie dragged him around the corner where a bunch of other players were already seated.

“I don’t think so…”

“Dean?” Cas appeared holding a tray of snacks.

“Ooooh, I see why you’re here now,” Charlie said out of the side of her mouth. Dean rolled his eyes. This was as discreet as Charlie would get.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today,” Cas said.

“I said I’d stop by. Sorry it’s so late it’s just…work.”

“Usually he’d still be there,” Charlie piped up. “He’s been nearly arrested by security on more than one occasion because he’s there so late. But I guess you had a reason to leave a little earlier tonight, hmm?”

“Charlie,” he warned.

“So, you two…?” Cas narrowed his eyes, trying to put two and two together.

“She’s my partner,” Dean explained. “My nerdy, nosy partner.”

“Don’t forget lovable.”

“Can it, Scully.”

“Winchester, we agreed. You’re Scully.” Dean scowled.

“If I had known I had more than one FBI agent around my place of business I probably would have tried to be a little more on the up and up,” Cas said. He was aiming for lighthearted, but Dean thought he actually looked nervous.

“Aw, c’mon Castiel,” she said, punching him on the arm, “we’re off the clock! And we’ve got orcs to kill.”

Charlie flounced back over to the table, finally leaving Dean alone with Cas.

“Do you play?” Dean asked.

“No,” Cas chuckled, “but I do like to watch. The stories are actually very engaging.”

They stood together leaning against a bookshelf, watching Charlie begin the game.

“Was everything okay? With the clinic?” Cas asked eventually.

“Well, nobody was hurt if that’s what you mean; which is honestly a miracle considering it was an HTA.”

Cas tilted his head in question.

“Sorry, a ‘High Temperature Accelerant’ fire. Buildings tend to go down really fast in those types of fires, especially small ones. The building itself is just rubble now. The cement will literally crumble in your bare hand.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I know. These people who started it are really serious about their destruction. They don’t want to leave even the impression that a building used to be there when they’re through. I think it might be more of a symbolic thing than a violence thing. I don’t know which is worse, to be honest.”

Cas didn’t offer any opinion. In fact, he seemed antsy. Upset even.

“Hey, you alright?” Dean asked, placing his hand on his shoulder. Cas jumped.

“Yes. Of course I am.” He lifted his jaw. “Just concerned. It’s an absolute tragedy.” Dean relaxed a little.

“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry though; I’m catching up to them. We’ve got more intel on them than they could possibly be aware of.” Dean paused. “Um…you didn’t hear any of this from me, obviously. Strictly speaking I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”

“Who would I tell?” he said with a wan smile.

Dean furrowed his brows, but before he could reply Charlie interrupted.

“Snack break time! Come on, boys, join the party!”

Sandwiches were passed out and quickly consumed. Charlie was showing Dean a character sheet and not so gently encouraging him to make his own. Dean begrudgingly folded it up and put it in his pocket, saying he’d consider it.

“So, Cas,” Charlie said loudly. Dean glared at her, not trusting her for a second. “You’re a handsome guy; you must have somebody waiting for you at home, right?”

“Um, no.” Cas narrowed his eyes in confusion. “It’s just me and Claire.”

“Well, that’s a damn shame, don’t you think Dean?”

Dean rolled his eyes, but held back a laugh at the look on Cas’ face.

“If you’re expressing interest in me, Charlie, I feel that I should inform you that I don’t really have an interest in your…persuasion.”

Now it was Charlie’s turn to look embarrassed. Dean laughed out loud.

“Charlie, you shameless flirt. Leave the poor man alone,” Dean snickered.

“It’s cool, Cas, I’m gay too,” Charlie clarified.

“Then why were you…?”

“Charlie, c’mon,” one of the other players, a small Asian kid named Kevin, said, “let’s get back to the game.”

“Yeah, Charlie, the elves await,” Dean said.

“This isn’t over Winchester,” Charlie hissed.

The group resumed their game. Cas asked Dean if he wanted to help close downstairs so they could leave when they were finished. Dean agreed, happy to spend some time away from Charlie’s schemes.

Claire helped them for a little bit before asking if she could leave to sleepover at Alex’s house. Then it was just the two of them, straightening shelves and dusting.

“Dean, may I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“I have been getting the impression all of your friends want us to date.”

Dean clenched his jaw. Charlie would be getting the silent treatment for weeks.

“That ain’t a question, Cas.”

“Right.” Cas fiddled with the book in his hands, smoothing the jacket cover on the hardback over and over again. “I just wanted to let you know that I am not opposed to such a suggestion, and I was wondering if you felt the same and if maybe you would like to go out sometime?”

Dean looked up at him, his stomach flipping and falling at the same time. Cas’ bright blue eyes finally met his and Dean could practically feel his heart break in two. He had been fantasizing about this moment for months. He thought about it practically every night before he went to bed. He knew what he had to say.

“No, Cas. I can’t.”

Cas’ face fell. He looked hurt, but not offended. Dean thought he might be sick.

“I mean, I’m flattered, honestly,” Dean added quickly. “You’re a really awesome guy, Cas, and I like you a lot. It’s just that I don’t date men.”

“Oh,” Cas said thoughtfully. “I apologize. I have been known to misread situations before. I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s not…” Dean dragged his hand down his face. He hadn’t wanted to get into this, but he felt he owed Cas an explanation. “I am attracted to men. To be completely honest, I’m very attracted to you. But I can only be in relationships with women, that’s just the way it is.”

Cas nodded, thinking for a moment before replying,

“Alright.”

Dean stared.

“Alright? That’s it? No, ‘that’s stupid Dean, you shouldn’t do that to yourself Dean?’”

“No, of course not.” Cas shook his head. “If that’s what your preference is then that’s what it is. Who am I to tell you what you’re feeling is wrong?”

“That’s, um, very understanding of you Cas.” He scratched the back of his head, looking at the floor. “And I dunno if I’ll always be this way. I kind of wish I wasn’t but…I just have some issues I’m working through I guess.”

Dean had never opened up about this to anyone. Not even Sam. Castiel felt safe, like he wouldn’t laugh or rebuke him for his feelings. Dean slid down the side of a bookcase, crossing his legs and sitting on the floor.

“Frankly, Dean, it doesn’t matter,” Cas said. “Your feelings are valid no matter what the reasons behind them are.” Cas gingerly sat down on the floor next to him. “I’ve struggled with my sexuality most of my life, and had a very negative experience coming out. I was constantly being told how to handle my emotions and actions when the truth is there’s very little you can control. It’s taken me many years to find peace with it, and with myself. I think you can too, Dean, but you’re the only person who can do that for yourself. And only when you’re ready.”

Dean looked down to realize he had taken Cas’ hand at some point. He had never held hands with a guy before. It was a very small step, but it was something.

“Thanks, Cas.”

\---

Summer turned into Fall and Claire had returned to school. It was her senior year so she was busier than ever, leaving Cas without an extra hand in the bookstore. Though Cas insisted he could manage, Dean found himself there most weekends and evenings. He would help customers find things and make recommendations. No matter what they wanted he usually ended up steering them towards the sci-fi/fantasy section. Customers almost always left with something they didn’t come in for. At one point Cas actually offered to pay him a salary since he was essentially a part time employee, but Dean wouldn’t hear of it. Cas never said, but Dean could tell he was struggling to keep the bookstore afloat. He could see it in the deep lines between Cas’ brows when he squinted at the closing reports every night. Dean was happy to help in whatever small way he could.

Dean was comfortable in the little bookstore. Sometimes he and Cas would have long conversations, about everything from philosophy to classic rock. Then sometimes they wouldn’t talk at all and just move around each other in companionable silence. Dean’s sexuality wasn’t brought up again, which he was grateful for. Though sometimes, late at night when he was in bed by himself, he wished he could have a repeat of Cas asking him out. Maybe this time his answer would be different.

His coworkers noticed. Hell, even Bobby noticed. Dean was calmer; he was sleeping better and eating regularly. He practically never drank at all anymore. He poured his newfound focus into his case. They had made a breakthrough after the last clinic burned down. They finally knew the supplier of the accelerant the Garrison had been using to start their fires. They opted to canvas the place instead of obtaining a search warrant. They didn’t want to tip those bastards off yet. Dean hadn’t felt this good about anything in years. The end was in sight.

The morning of Thanksgiving he put a cooler of beer, a prepped for the oven casserole, and pumpkin pie in the back of the Impala before making the two and a half hour trip to Sam’s apartment in Stanford. When he arrived he was greeted first by Sam’s whackjob Irish setter, Ruby, and second by his tough as nails fiancée, Eileen.

“Hey Dean,” she said, wrapping him in a hug tight enough to crack a rib.

“Hey, how are you?” he asked after she released him, so she would be able to read his lips.

“Goddamn starving. Speaking of, you may wanna get in there to help your brother. I know he said he wanted to do the turkey himself this year, but…”

“Understood.”

Eileen helped him bring in the food from the car, while snagging two beers just for herself. Sam was in his tiny kitchen, his hair comically frazzled and being held back by a thick purple headband.

“Oh, Dean, thank God you’re here,” he said, briefly embracing Dean before returning to a pot that was seconds from boiling over.

“Bro, you are a damn mess,” Dean snickered, already making his way around the kitchen to correct whatever was directly in sight.

“I’m an adult, Dean,” he said though his teeth. “I can handle Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Sure you can.”

“But…uh, can you check on the turkey? I’ve got a smoker set up outside and I did exactly what Alton Brown said, but I still can’t tell if it’s –“

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

He winked at Eileen, who silently raised her beer bottle to him.

Everything ended up being salvageable, even if it wasn’t “exactly how Alton Brown did it,” and dinner was delicious. Dean wasn’t about to share any of his turkey with Ruby, but he noticed Sam slipping her bits and pieces under the table. They put the game on when they were done eating; leaving the pie for when they were certain their stomachs wouldn’t explode. Dean and Eileen finished off the last of the beer while Sam nursed a root beer.

“You know,” Dean said, “I was trying to talk to Cas, the bookstore guy –“

“—I know who Cas is, Dean, you’ve been talking about him all night.”

“—Hey, I have not been talking about him  _ all  _ night. Anyway, I was trying to talk to him about football the other night and it just went completely over his head. I don’t think he’s watched a game in his whole life. Too much of an intellectual I guess. His daughter though, Claire, she’s into sports. Kick ass golf player. This one time she even –“

“You should bring them around for Christmas, Dean” Sam said, cutting him off.

Dean paused.

“You think? With everyone over at Bobby’s?”

“Yeah, why not? Unless they have other family they want to spend it with, obviously.”

As far as Dean could tell they didn’t. He had asked Cas what his Thanksgiving plans were and, while he had been somewhat evasive, it had been pretty clear he was going to be spending it with just Claire.

“Alright,” Dean said. “I’ll check with Bobby first, but that might be nice. I don’t really think they have a lot of other people in their lives.”

“What about Claire’s mom?” Eileen asked.

“They won’t talk about her. He has sole custody of Claire. I assume it was a nasty divorce or something since he’s…ya know…”

Sam and Eileen stared at him.

“He’s gay,” Dean said. “Didn’t I mention that?”

“No,” Sam said, poorly concealing a smile, “you left that bit out.”

“Thought I mentioned it.” Dean shrugged, and took a long swallow from his beer. “Not that it matters anyway.”

“Right,” Sam nodded.

Eileen had made eye contact with Sam and started signing something. Sam excitedly signed back, Eileen grinned and replied.

“C’mon guys, that ain’t fair,” Dean whined.

“If you practiced your ASL you wouldn’t have to suffer,” Eileen said.

“I know my alphabet,” Dean said. “And pizza. And beer. And I know you just said ‘idiot’ to Sam so I’ve got my basics.”

“Read my lips, Dean Winchester. Go slice me a giant ass piece of pie and we’ll call it square.”

\---

Soon after Thanksgiving Dean got the go ahead from Bobby to invite Castiel to Christmas dinner. Bobby seemed surprised, but pleased that Dean was interested in bringing a friend. Bobby not so subtly pointed out that he had never brought anyone before, not even some of his more serious past girlfriends. Dean brushed him off with some smart ass remark, but he was just as confused as Bobby about what this said for how he felt about Cas.

Asking Cas was somehow a slightly more nerve wracking process. He wanted to seem casual, but at the same time he really wanted him to be there. He needed his family to meet Castiel because suddenly their approval of him was very important.

It was an unseasonably cold Wednesday night when the topic finally came up. He was avoiding braving the weather by staying to help Cas decorate the store for the holidays.

“I don’t want it to be too Christmasy,” Cas was saying. “I want everyone to feel welcome. More winter wonderland-esque maybe than…Dean, are you listening?”

“Yeah,” he lied. “I was also thinking though, speaking of Christmas did you, uh, have any plans?”

Cas got that look on his face again; a pained expression where Dean wasn’t sure if he was about to cry or punch him in the face. He turned around to stick another snowflake decal on the front window.

“Just what I always do,” he mumbled.

“Which is?”

“Stay at home. Drink eggnog. Watch the entire twenty-four hour A Christmas Story marathon.”

“What about Claire?”

“She belongs to her mother for Christmas,” Cas said tightly. “That was our agreement.”

“Oh.” Dean could tell from the shifty way Cas was speaking he would rather be talking about anything else. Dean nearly backed out of the conversation altogether, but maybe this would help Cas. He could replace his sour feelings about his ex-wife and lonely Christmas with a good, old fashioned Winchester holiday.

“I was thinking,” he braved on, “that you could spend Christmas with me.”

Cas’ eyes widened.

“Really?”

“Well, me and my family. Or, adopted family. Kind of.”

“That clears it up,” Cas said, letting his posture relax and his mouth curling into that sort of half smile that Dean was so fond of.

_ Since when had he started cataloguing the types of Cas-smiles that he was fond of? _

“So…you wanna?” Dean asked lamely.

“That sounds wonderful, Dean, as long your family wouldn’t mind my intrusion.”

“Nah, I already asked. It’s all set.”

Cas grinned, a real grin with teeth.  _ Goddamn, was he fond. _

“Then we will have Christmas together.”

Dean’s chest swelled so much he thought it might burst.

“Awesome. We’re not exactly into the whole religious bit of it, if that’s okay with you.”

“More than okay.”


	4. Trying to Embrace the Picture I Paint

Bobby’s house was more like a cabin. It sat on the side of a mountain with no neighbors to speak of. Dean had Cas in his passenger seat and the drive was less than scenic. The altitude was high enough that there ended up being a lot of icy, muddy slush on the side of the roads and the trees were bare and gray. Cas didn’t seem to mind as he pressed his face to the window and watched the world whip by.

“I should warn you,” Dean said, “they can be kind of…a rough crowd. Lots of swearing. Not so many warm and fuzzies.”

“Naturally,” Cas said, nodding.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well you had to have gotten it from somewhere,” Cas said.

“Hey, I can be warm,” Dean retorted, smiling.

“What about fuzzy?” Cas asked, sharing his grin.

“On occasion.”

They pulled into Bobby’s driveway, Ellen and Jo’s Jeep Wrangler already there. As they exited the car Dean spotted Jo on the front porch, long blond hair stuffed under a green knit cap. She was wrapping some tinsel around the porch railing that he doubted was Bobby approved.

“You’re only allowed in if you brought booze and presents,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Covered. I brought cookies too,” Dean said. Jo’s face lit up and she ran up to hug him.

“I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

“You’re forgiven,” Dean laughed.

“Where’d you find the sexy professor?” she asked out of the corner of her mouth.

“Sexy librarian,” Dean corrected. “Or…bookstore owner.”

“Hmm?” Cas said.

“Nothing. Cas this is Jo. Jo, Cas.”

They greeted each other, and Jo helped them carry everything in from the Impala. It was nice and toasty inside, a fire already roaring in the living room. Bobby was sitting in one of the easy chairs in front of it, but stood up when he noticed their arrival.

“Merry Christmas, Bobby,” Dean said, giving Bobby a hug.

“Yeah, yeah, bah humbug,” Bobby said, a small smile hiding under his bushy beard. “Well, boy, ain’t ya gonna introduce me to your friend?”

“Sorry, this is Castiel,” he said, stepping aside so they could shake hands. “Cas this is Bobby. He’s practically a second father to me and, incidentally, the Assistant Director of my division at the bureau. Wouldn’t have gotten through Quantico without him.”

“Ah, shut up, you did fine on your own,” Bobby said, somehow managing to be gruff and proud at the same time.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Cas said.

“Why don’t you give Ellen a hand in the kitchen, Dean,” Bobby said.

“Yeah, we want to interrogate Cas without you here,” Jo said.

“Aw, c’mon guys. Go easy on him,” Dean said.

“No promises.”

“I think I can handle it, Dean,” Cas said with a reassuring nod.

Jo still had to bodily shove Dean out of the room and towards the kitchen. Ellen greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and handed him a potato peeler. The whole kitchen smelled like rosemary and thyme.

“Heard you brought a boyfriend,” Ellen said conversationally. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Just a friend, Ellen.”

“That ain’t what Jo said.”

“Well, Jo doesn’t know shit.”

“She got it from Sam.”

“Goddammit, Sammy,” Dean muttered. Ellen laughed.

“So how’d you meet your just-a-friend?”

Dean gave Ellen a brief lowdown of the previous months, minus the time he had drunkenly offered Cas a blowjob. He told her about the bookshop and the time he spent there; about Claire and the other girls and introducing him to Cajun food. He paused when he saw the sly smile on Ellen’s face.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothin’,” she said. Dean gave her a look and she chuckled and continued. “Just the longest I’ve ever heard you talk about anything besides work and your brother.”

“Oh,” Dean said. “Well, I’ve been spending a lot of time with him I guess.”

“I can see that. Most of the year, in fact. And you never made a move?”

“Ellen…” he said, exasperated.

“Listen, son, it’s not my business what you’re doin’ and who you’re doin’ it with. I only want to know that you are or aren’t doin’ it because it’s what  _ you  _ want. Not that it’s whatever John Winchester is telling you to do in your head,” she said, threateningly waving a knife in his general direction. Dean bristled.

“My father ain’t got nothin’ to do with –“

“Of course he does,” she said, setting the knife down and squaring her shoulders. “He has always had a say in every aspect of your life, even after he died. It’s time to let go and be your own man, Dean.”

“What, like Sam?”

“No, like you.”

Dean turned away from Ellen, violently chopping parsnips instead of replying. Ellen sighed.

“Fine, go ahead and pout,” she said. “But you know I’m straight with you because I care, dammit.”

Sam arrived about an hour later with Eileen. Jo immediately recruited Sam to help her put ornaments on the tall branches of the tree. Dean went to save Castiel, but instead found him having an animated conversation with Eileen in sign language.

“See Dean?” Eileen said when she caught sight of him. “There really is no excuse.”

“Now how the hell do you know anything about ASL?” Dean asked Castiel, frowning and crossing his arms.

“I used to do a lot of baby sign language with Claire,” Cas said, “I found it very interesting and wanted to learn more. I’m admittedly quite rusty; I haven’t had anybody to practice with.”

“Maybe you can practice with me Cas,” Dean said. “And try and teach me a thing or two.”

“Good idea,” he said.

Eileen beamed.

“Alright,” Ellen said, walking into the crowded living room and tugging oven mitts off of her hands, “ham’s out of the oven. Everybody come help get this shit on the table and I’ll get the drinks.”

Everyone got up at once and made their way to the kitchen. Ellen smacked Bobby’s hand when he tried to eat the mashed potatoes before they got to the table.

“Castiel,” Ellen called out, “what are you having? Beer or wine?”

“Water is fine. I actually don’t drink.”

All of the action seemed to pause for a second as everyone stopped to look at him.

“That’s cool, Cas. Me neither,” Sam said. He smiled faintly. “Five years sober.”

Cas returned the smile.

“Congratulations. Eight years for me.”

Dean stared. How had this never come up between them before? Dean wanted to be mad, but suddenly all of Cas’ concern about Dean’s drinking habits started to make sense. Sam had even asked Dean to join him when he started going to the A.A. meetings, but he hadn’t considered his problems worth it. Sam had been going to N.A. as well. Dean would rather be there for Sam and help him work through his issues than visit any of his own.

Dean could feel the instant sense of comradery that passed between Sam and Cas.

“That’s awesome,” Sam said. “You should be proud of yourself.”

“And so should you,” Eileen said, standing on her tiptoes to peck Sam on the lips. “Now hurry up with the salad, babe, I wanna eat.”

Finally they all gathered around the table with an assortment of food that could feed twice the amount of people than were actually present. Dean knew it would be demolished regardless. He had just gotten his hands on a roll when Jo said,

“Wait, shouldn’t we say something first?”

“We stopped praying when we were like five, Joanna Beth,” Dean said. Jo stuck her tongue out at him.

“Well we don’t have to pray, but maybe a toast?” Sam suggested.

“Fine. Here’s to all you idgits, old and new, who keep me less lonely on the holidays,” Bobby said, raising his beer bottle. “May your crops be plentiful and cup runneth over and all that crap. Merry frickin’ Christmas.”

“Hear, hear!” Dean said, raising his own beer.

They all chuckled and clinked glasses.

Dinner was amazing, and Dean loudly proclaimed as much while still chewing mouthfuls of ham. Sam threw a napkin at him to shut him up. Cas laughed and spoke easily with everyone, like they’d been having holiday dinners together for years. Dean pressed his thigh against Cas’ under the dinner table. Cas gave him a sideways smile and hooked his ankle around Dean’s. They sat that way for the entirety of the meal.

They eventually retired to the living room where everyone had placed their gifts under Jo and Sam’s artfully decorated tree. It was mostly adorned with ornaments that Sam, Dean, and Jo had handmade as kids. Dean found the angel he had made to look like his mother when he was about six. He smiled and showed it to Cas.

“C’mon, Dean, present time!” Jo shouted, already on her second glass of spiked eggnog.

“Alright, but you have to play Santa,” Dean said, taking a seat on the carpet and patting the space next to him for Cas to sit down.

“I always have to play Santa,” she grumbled.

“That’s ‘cause you’re the youngest,” Dean said. “When you’re not the youngest anymore you won’t have to do it.”

As Jo started passing out presents Dean could feel Sam squirming on the couch behind him. He turned around to see him and Eileen frantically signing.

“Spit it out, Sammy,” Dean said.

“I mean, we were gonna tell you…” Sam started.

“Tell us what, Sam?” Ellen asked, a big smile already on her face.

“I’m pregnant!” Eileen said.

There was cheering and whooping from everyone in the room. Jo got up and attack hugged Eileen while Sam begged her to be gentle.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, son,” Bobby said, patting Sam on the back.

“Ha ha, thanks Bobby,” Sam said.

“Oh, shit. Cas, I’m gonna be an uncle!” Dean said as Cas grinned back at him. “Sam, Jesus Christ, you’re gonna be a  _ dad. _ How could you not tell me sooner?!” Dean said.

“We really only knew for sure yesterday,” Sam said. “So…Merry Christmas?”

Ellen moved in and smothered Sam with a hug.

“I’m gonna spoil that little bastard rotten,” Dean told Cas.

“I know you will,” he said.

When everyone had finally settled back down they got to opening presents. Dean pretty much got everyone what he always got them for Christmas; whiskey for Bobby and Ellen, vinyl records for Jo, books for Sam and Eileen (this year supplied by Castiel’s bookstore). However, this year had the added challenge of a gift for Cas. He had looked high and low for something perfect, even stooping as low as asking Charlie for advice. As Cas picked up the small, blue package Dean got sweaty and nervous.

“If you don’t like it I’ve still got the receipt,” Dean said.

“Don’t be silly, Dean. I’m sure I’ll love it.

Cas opened the box and removed the small silver medallion that hung from a dainty chain. He gave Dean a questioning look.

“It’s St. John of God,” Dean explained. “I know you love books about religion and he’s the patron saint of booksellers so, I dunno, it reminded me of you.”

Cas wrapped his arms around Dean in a full embrace. When he pulled back he had tears in his eyes.

“Dean this is…extremely thoughtful. Thank you very much. I’m afraid my gift isn’t nearly as nice.” He handed him a large gift bag. Dean removed the tissue paper and gasped.

“Is this-?”

“Yes. And it’s officially licensed. I wasn’t sure which color to get, but it’s the same color Captain Kirk wears so…”

Dean lifted the gold bathrobe out of the bag, complete with black collar, Star Trek insignia, and pockets.

“Cas this is amazing.”

“You like it?”

“Hell yeah I like it. I’m gonna wear it right now.”

Dean pulled on the robe and rubbed his hands on the sleeves.

“Damn, this is soft.”

“Would you mind putting the medallion on me?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, sure thing.”

Dean clasped the necklace behind Castiel’s neck, not so accidentally brushing his fingers against him when he did. Cas turned around and gave him another one of those shy smiles, where only the corner of his mouth turned up and his eyes were heavy lidded. Dean knew he probably had some dopey grin on his face, but he couldn’t help it.

“Get a room, you too,” Jo grumbled.

“Jealous?” Dean mocked, waggling his eyebrows.  

“As if.”

“Come on, Dean, I need help cleaning up the kitchen anyway,” Sam said, even though he and Eileen shared a smirk. Dean acquiesced, taking off the bathrobe and folding it carefully before placing it back in the bag.

“Should I help?” Cas offered.

“No, you are a guest,” Ellen said. “But you should go bring some more eggnog in here.”

\---

Dean and Sam cleared all of the leftovers and started on the dishes. Dean washed and Sam dried.

“So,” Dean said, “a baby, huh?”

“Pretty crazy, right?” Sam said with a huff of laughter.

“Will you name him after me?”

“First of all, we don’t know if it’ll be a boy. Second of all, no.”

“Fine, be that way,” he said, flicking some dishwater at Sam. Sam snapped him with the towel.

“We’re gonna have to find a real house,” Sam mused. “That apartment is too small for a kid.”

“Not to mention a disaster waiting to happen with all those stairs and shit.”

“That too.”

“You guys still planning on the wedding then?”

“Yeah, it’s still set for March. We already booked the venue and everything.” Sam opened the cupboard to put away a stack of dishes. “We’ve got a doctor’s appointment set for next weekend to get an actual due date, but we figure she can’t be more than a couple weeks along. She probably won’t even be showing yet at the wedding.”

“Hey, as long as the dress fits, right?” Dean snickered as Sam groaned.

“It had better. Do you know how much those taffeta nightmares cost?”

“Oh, god, she’s not actually wearing taffeta is she?”

“No clue. She won’t let me see it.”

“I will have a strong word with her if she is,” Dean said, menacingly waving a soapy spatula at him.

“Yeah, I bet you will,” Sam laughed.

They washed together in silence for a few minutes.

“I just can’t get over it,” Dean admitted. “It’s like…you have a real adult life now. I mean, a baby? Wow.”

“I know, same here,” Sam said. “Though my total freak out hasn’t totally set in yet.”

“I bet.”

“But what about you, Dean?” Sam asked. “Life seems to have been kinda going your way too recently.”

Dean smiled, unbidden.

“I guess it has.”

“We’re all really happy for you, you know,” Sam said softly.

“Seems to me you’re all happy for something that hasn’t exactly happened yet.”

“Well whose fault is that?”

Dean laughed.

“Yeah. You’re right.” He sobered for a moment. “I think about Dad a lot. I mean, I always do this time of year but…especially now.”

“I get what you mean,” Sam said. “He would have been proud of you, Dean.”

“How can you be sure?” Dean asked, setting the sponge down and looking at his brother. “He never even knew about the…guy thing.”

“Look, we’re never gonna know exactly how he would have reacted,” Sam said, pushing his hair back from his forehead, “but Dad raised us to be our own man and do what’s right. I think that includes doing right by yourself too.”

Dean looked back down at the dish he was scrubbing and picked at a bit of stuck on grease. He’d spent a lot of the last few months saying something similar to himself, but it helped to hear it out loud and from a voice other than his own. Dean knew what he wanted. He just had to be brave enough to go get it.

\---

When Dean returned to the living room everyone was sitting around an ancient box television watching the stop animation Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer movie. Sam sat himself back on the couch and wrapped his giant limbs around Eileen. Dean looked around but Cas wasn’t in the room.

“He’s on the front porch,” Jo said sleepily.

Dean went out the front door, closing it gently behind him when he saw Cas sitting on the top step of the stoop, wrapped in Dean’s new Star Trek bathrobe with a steaming cup of what looked like hot apple cider. If Cas sensed his presence he didn’t make it known, so Dean went and sat beside him.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

“I would like that very much, actually,” Cas said, scooting close to Dean so their sides pressed together. Dean didn’t question it when his arm went to wrap around Cas’ shoulders. Cas sighed into the touch. “I hope you don’t mind I’m wearing your robe. It’s chilly out here.”

“Hey, you’re the one who bought it. Wear it anytime you want.”

They were silent for a moment. The mist from their breath formed clouds that mingled in front of their faces.

“I didn’t mean to spring my history of alcoholism on you at dinner,” Cas said, frown deepening the lines between his eyebrows.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly. Not yet, anyway.”

“Okay.”

Cas leaned closer into Dean, his head practically resting on Dean’s shoulder.

“It started snowing a little,” Cas said. “It melts by the time it reaches the ground, but it’s still pretty to watch.”

“Sure is,” Dean said. He was not watching the snow.

“Thank you for bringing me tonight, Dean,” he said, placing his mug of cider down on the step below. “You’re family is wonderful.”

“Sam is technically the only blood related one.”

“I think that’s even better. You love this family because you chose to, not because you have to.”

They sat quietly, watching the snow fall around them. They couldn’t see the stars or the moon, the only light illuminating them coming from the string of gold Christmas lights that Jo had put up. Dean looked up, following the trail of lights, to find that Jo had hung mistletoe in the archway.

“Speaking of…choosing to love people,” Dean began awkwardly, releasing his arm from around Cas and pointing to the mistletoe. Cas laughed, a deep, beautiful throaty sound.

“A very apt and natural segue,” he commented.

“Thanks I thought so too.” Cas laughed harder, his smile wide and his teeth dazzlingly white. “I just wanted to say…” Cas’ eyes were bright, crinkled at the corners. Two snowflakes landed and melted on the bridge of his nose.

Dean leaned in and kissed him.

Cas’ lips were cold and full and perfect. He returned the kiss enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck. Dean pulled back from the kiss and laughed before ducking down to kiss him again. And again. Cas tasted like cinnamon and allspice. Cas would groan when Dean grazed his teeth against his bottom lip. Cas liked to tease Dean by brushing their noses together and pulling away when Dean went to press their lips together. All these little things about Cas that Dean had never known before.  He had to find out more.

The front door opened. Dean didn’t even bother to stop until he heard Sam cough politely.

“As happy as I am you two finally figured it out,” Sam said, “I need to take my girl home and you’re blocking the steps.”

“Sorry, Sam,” Cas said, helping Dean up so they could both get out of the way.

“Use protection, you crazy kids,” Eileen said as she passed by.

“Could say the same to you, baby mama,” Dean said.

“Too late!”  


	5. Counting to Fifteen

Dean drove Cas back to his apartment above the bookstore. The kissed at stop lights like teenagers.

“I need to feed Chuck before I go upstairs,” Cas said. “You’re welcome to come inside if you like.”

Dean waited for Cas to unlock the door before following him into the bookstore. Chuck greeted them by running immediately underfoot. Cas picked him up and brought him to the storage room to feed him while Dean hung around the front, leaning on the counter where the register was. Cas returned, but stopped several feet away, opting to lean against a bookshelf and look at Dean.

“Do you know how many times I imagined fucking you on that counter?” Cas asked, casual as you please.

There was a dry click in Dean’s throat as he tried to swallow.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yes,” Cas said, moving in closer and letting his eyes trail up and down his body. Dean was not used to being on this end of the equation, but judging from the twitch in his pants it was definitely working for him.  “It could be quite distracting sometimes while I was working. And all of those late nights where it was just the two of us alone…well…”

Cas was right in front of him now, not touching but close enough to feel the heat emanating from him.

“Damn, to think,” Dean breathed, “we could have been doing that the whole time.”

“I never wanted to push you, Dean.”

“Would you push me now?”

Cas smiled slowly, a feral look that Dean hadn’t seen before. He knew his interest was visible now through his jeans.

“Ask nicely,” Cas said. Dean let out a shaky breath.

“Please?”

Cas closed the space between them, capturing his mouth in a bruising kiss and backing Dean’s ass up against the counter. Dean threaded his fingers through Cas’ hair, gripping tighter than was probably comfortable but Cas seemed to like it. He continued to push Dean against the counter, finally forcing Dean to hoist himself up so he could sit on it with his legs dangling over the edge. Cas spread Dean’s knees apart so he could slot himself between Dean’s thighs and grind their hips together. Dean groaned, tipping his head back and baring his neck. Cas sucked and bit there, most likely leaving deep bruises in places Dean knew even a collar and tie wouldn’t cover. He couldn’t bring himself to give a shit.

Cas reached a hand between them, pulling at the button on Dean’s jeans before abruptly stopping.

“Is this okay?” he asked. “We don’t have to go further.”

“I want it, Cas, please,” Dean begged. “Please.”

Cas kissed him again as he unzipped Dean’s pants and pulled out his achingly hard cock.

“Shit,” Dean cursed.

“Look at you,” Cas whispered in his ear as he began to stroke him. “So beautiful. The most beautiful man I’ve ever met.”

“Cas…” Dean whimpered, reaching for Castiel’s belt. Cas helped him out and after a little fumbling Dean had Cas in his hand as well. Cas’ eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth had fallen open in a silent scream.

“Dean, I…I’m afraid I’m not going to last very long,” he panted.

“Come here,” Dean said, attempting to haul him up to the counter. “Need more. More of you, now.”

Cas got the picture and climbed on top of Dean as he laid all the way back on the counter, his head hanging off the edge of the other side. Cas pulled Dean’s jeans and boxers down past his hips before doing the same to himself and pressing their hips together again. Dean gasped for breath; the feeling of even a little more skin on skin was extremely intense. Dean spat into his palm before reaching between them and taking them both in his hand. Cas moaned.

“You like that?” Dean asked, finally finding his confidence.

“Yes,” he hissed.

“You feel so good, Cas. You’re so fucking hot like this, fucking into my hand like you’re desperate for it.”

“I am,” Cas said. “Have been for a long time.”

“Yeah? Would you think about me, Cas? Touch yourself and imagine it was me?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about it.” Dean was barely coherent anymore. He knew both of them were on the edge, but at the same time he didn’t want it to end just yet. He slowed his strokes to an agonizing pace and Cas whined, trying to buck back into his hand. Dean stayed his hips with his free hand, forcing Cas to slow down. “C’mon, Cas, I wanna hear all of it.”

“I would imagine…that I brought you upstairs after closing,” Cas said, shutting his eyes like he could see what he was describing. “And I’d beg for you to fuck me. You’d touch and you’d tease until finally…” They both groaned as Dean sped up his hand again. “I would put two fingers inside myself and pretend it was you.”

“Fuck, Cas.”

“It was never enough though. I even,” he huffed out a half crazed laughed, “I bought an adult toy to make it feel more real. Like I could really have your cock inside me.”

“Is that what you want?” Dean asked. “You want me inside your tight, hot ass?”

“Dean, I want to ride you so hard I can’t walk for a week.”

“Ah, yes. Yes, Cas I’m close, I’m so close.”

“And once I’m done fucking myself on you,” Cas said, whispering now with his lips on Dean’s ear, “and I feel you come inside me, I’m going to fuck  _ you  _ until you come a second time with my name on your lips.”

Dean cried out, spilling all over his stomach and his hand. Cas followed right after, growling Dean’s name. Their chests heaved, trying and failing to catch a breath. Cas tucked his face into Dean’s shoulder and Dean smiled.

“Holy Hell, Cas,” he said, “where’d you learn to talk like that?”

“I read a lot of erotica,” Cas mumbled.

Dean chuckled and ran his fingers through Cas’ hair. It wasn’t exactly comfortable atop the counter that was far too small for one grown man, let alone two, to lie down on. Soon they had to move, grabbing handfuls of tissues to clean up as best they could. Dean drew Cas in again and kissed him gently. It didn’t take long for the kiss to turn into something more heated.

“Come upstairs,” Cas said, fixing him with a glassy eyed stare.

Dean pulled away from Cas slightly and sighed.

“Dean?”

Dean wanted nothing more than to take Cas to bed and have him make good on all his promises. More than that though, he wanted a relationship with him; a real, honest to God relationship with movie nights and dinner out and whatever other stupid shit couples did together. Dean wanted it all. However, this was still very new territory. If Dean was doing this he was going to do it right. It’s what Cas deserved.

“I know this might seem a bit ridiculous after all…that, but I’d really like to take this slow. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. I understand.”

“Thanks, Cas. And on that note, I should probably go home before you tempt me to change my mind.”

Cas smiled, his arms circling behind Dean’s neck.

“Who would have guessed that I’m the bad influence? Poor Dean Winchester is defenseless against my licentious intentions.”

“It’s always the quiet ones.”

Cas laughed and Dean leaned in and kissed him, though they were both smiling too much for it be a real kiss.

“Merry Christmas, Cas.”

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”

\---

The next morning Dean woke up to his work phone blaring that God awful Marimba tune that he couldn’t figure out how to change. He checked the time; four minutes before his alarm was supposed to go off. Christ, he hated that.

“Agent Winchester,” he answered gruffly.

“Got a situation,” Bobby said. “Didn’t look like much but the local P.D. called us in on a suspicion and they were right. Almost didn’t call you, but it’s definitely our guys again. We need you down here.”

“On my way,” Dean said. He had already gotten out of bed and was struggling to put pants on one handed. “Why weren’t you gonna call me?”

“Conflict of interest. They hit your boy’s bookstore, Dean.”

Dean froze. He palms turned to ice and his breath stopped in his throat.

“Is he…?”

“He’s fine. Seems kind of annoyed that we’re here actually. There’s some broken windows and property damage, accelerant poured all over the floor but they never got to the point of burning it down.”

“Why would they target him?”

“Well if I knew that I wouldn’t be callin’ your sorry ass down here.”

“Sorry, sir. Be there in ten.”

Dean’s hands clenched the wheel of the Impala, knuckles white no matter how hard he tried to forcibly relax them. He hadn’t even had time to brush his teeth on the rush out of his apartment. When he arrived there was crime scene tape around the perimeter, several police cars, a firetruck, and an ambulance that Cas was sitting on the back of. He knew he should report in first but he had no control over his feet making a beeline towards Cas.

“Cas? Hey, what happened, are you alright?” he asked, placing his hand under Cas’ jaw and turning it this way and that. He had a cut above his left eyebrow and a scrape along his chin but otherwise seemed okay. Cas jerked his head away.

“I told them not to call you, I’m fine,” Cas grumbled at the ground.

“Fine or not I should be here for you. I mean, what the hell?”

Dean looked at the bookstore, front windows completely smashed in. Through the broken glass he could see several bookshelves had been pushed over and books were torn apart. Hundreds of ripped pages littered the sidewalk.

“I don’t want you getting involved in this, Dean,” Cas said. He was chattering, though Dean didn’t think it was from the cold. Cas wrapped his arms around himself as if physically holding himself together would keep him from falling apart.

“Unfortunately, Cas, this is my job. Even if it wasn’t, I would find whoever was responsible and kick their fucking teeth –“

“Winchester!” Bobby barked.

“I’ll be right back,” Dean said, placing a hand on Cas’ shoulder. Cas just nodded.

“See, this is exactly why I wasn’t gonna call ya,” Bobby said once Cas was out of earshot. “I need you focused.”

“I can be focused and concerned at the same time.”

“No, boy. You can’t. Now get in here, we got a lot of shit to get through.”

The damage looked even worse from inside, and the gagging stench of the gas accelerant that was never ignited sat heavy in the air. Most of Cas’ books were ruined. The entire Sci-Fi/Fantasy section, Dean noticed with a pang of sadness, had been completely destroyed. Photographers were inside getting close ups of broken shelves, everything was being dusted for prints. Dean felt sick. What had once been such a sacred and peaceful place had now been completely violated.

“At least Claire wasn’t home,” Dean muttered.

“I was gonna ask, where is the girl?” Bobby asked.

“At her mom’s.”

“You know where that is?”

“No.”

Charlie descended the staircase from the loft, looking equally upset.

“I just don’t understand why he would be targeted,” Charlie said. “Do you think it might be a copycat? A random act of violence? Or somebody that had a problem with Cas and wanted to blame it one someone else?”

“Who would have a problem with Cas?” Dean said. “Besides we never released to the press exactly what kind of accelerant was being used.

“Don’t know,” Charlie shrugged. “We got his permission to search his home upstairs. There’s a chance whoever did this scoped the place out before they hit, we didn’t want to leave anything unchecked.”

“Good thinking, Bradbury.”

Bobby’s attention was taken by another agent and he was led to the back staircase up to Cas’ apartment.

“I should’ve stayed with him last night,” Dean fumed. “What if Cas had really gotten hurt?”

“You were here?” Charlie asked, eyes wide. “Last night?”

“Yeah. Full disclosure, you’re gonna find a lot of my DNA on the front desk.”

“Ew.” Charlie screwed up her nose. “Do you think you might get in trouble?”

“How could I get in trouble? I didn’t know this was gonna turn into a crime scene last night!”

“True.” She folded her arms and worried her lip. “I don’t know, Dean. There’s just something not right about any of this. Something we’re missing.”

Bobby came storming back downstairs; he was carrying a picture frame in his hand and was being followed by the other agent who was carrying a cardboard box.

“Winchester,” he said, almost dangerously quiet, “I need you to tell me something and I need you to tell me honest.”

“Of course, I’m always honest,” Dean said, brow furrowed in confusion, “what’s this about?”

“Have you ever been in Castiel’s bedroom?” Dean’s eyebrows shot up.

“Like…literally or is that supposed to be some kind of euphemism?”

“Literally.” Though Bobby chose that moment to eye the hickeys on Dean’s neck and frown.

“No, I haven’t. Haven’t even been in his apartment before, I’ve only ever been in the bookstore.”

“Alright,” Bobby scratched his beard. “Then did he ever mention anything to you about this?”

He shoved the frame he was holding into Dean’s hands. It turned out to be a photograph of a younger Castiel, hair completely dark and not peppered lightly with gray like it was now, a woman with sharp cheekbones and golden brown hair, and a small girl with blond hair and a round face, Claire. They were all outside in a park somewhere, sitting on a picnic blanket and grinning at the camera. Cas was caught mid-laugh, his eyes bright. He didn’t have any of the sadness that sat heavily behind his eyes and between his brows. Dean was about to ask why Bobby was showing him this when his eyes caught the symbol that was on the t-shirt Cas was wearing: a vertical line that swooped down and curled around to the right. Dean’s stomach sank. It was the symbol of the Garrison.

\---

“I just don’t believe this,” Dean said, “no way he’s involved with those people.”

Dean, Bobby, and Charlie stopped at the front desk of the police station where Cas had been taken in the hour before. At Dean’s request he rode in one of the FBI vehicles instead of the back of a police car. He wasn’t being arrested, just brought in for questioning. Dean didn’t like it either way. They flashed their badges and were brought back to the interrogation room where Cas was already waiting. Agent Henriksen was waiting for them outside the door.

“Agents,” he said, nodding to them.

“Not that I ain’t glad to see you,” Dean said, “but what are you doing here?”

“I have to question the suspect,” Henriksen said.

“First of all,” Dean seethed, “he is a victim. Not a suspect. Second, Bradbury and I are the leads on this –“

“-And both of you are too close to him,” Bobby interrupted.

“I’m not  _ that _ close,” Charlie scoffed.

“You don’t think we can be impartial?”

“No, I don’t. Even if I did I wouldn’t let you do it,” Bobby said, then adding more quietly just to Dean, “Look, I am trying to keep your relationship out of all this, but I can’t promise it won’t ever come up. We gotta do things by the books or we’re gonna lose everything we ever worked for.”

“Understood, sir. But I don’t gotta like it.”

Henriksen gave them a final nod before tucking a file under his arm and entering the room. The rest of them watched through the one-way mirror as Cas glanced at him warily. He looked exhausted.

“Castiel Novak, I’m Agent Henriksen,” he greeted warmly. If Dean couldn’t question Cas himself, he was grateful it was Henriksen. He wasn’t about to be treat Cas like a criminal.

“Henriksen,” Cas repeated. “I think Dean’s mentioned you before.”

“All good things I hope,” Henriksen said with a smile, sitting down across from Cas. “I just need to clarify some things with you and then I can send you on your way. Nothing to be worried about.”

“Alright.” Cas shifted in his chair.

“Let’s start with last night,” Henriksen said, flipping his folder open and clicking a pen. “Can you state for the record exactly what happened?

“I was asleep in my bed in my apartment above my bookstore. A crash from downstairs woke me up. I looked at my clock and it said it was 4:32 am.” Henriksen jotted down a note. “I have a cat downstairs, but he doesn’t usually knock things over. And this sounded like glass breaking. I figured someone might be breaking in to steal money from the register, so I grabbed one of my daughter’s golf clubs and went downstairs to see what was going on. As I was walking the noise only got worse. I figured at that point it was not a robbery and someone intended to do me harm. So before I got downstairs I shouted that I had called the cops and I had a gun.”

“Do you have a gun?” Henriksen asked.

“No,” Cas said.

“What happened next?”

“I heard voices and when I actually got to the bookstore someone threw a book at my head. Great Expectations,” he scoffed. “I fell down the stairs and they all scattered. I didn’t chase them in case they were dangerous.”

“You did the right thing,” Henriksen nodded. “Did you see what any of them looked like? Any faces or identifying features?”

“No,” Cas shook his head. “It was dark. They wore masks. They were all men from what I could tell, maybe four of them. Possibly more. Like I said, it was dark.”

“You said you heard voices. Do you know what they were saying?”

“No.” Cas frowned, and his eyes shifted. “But…one did shout. Before they left.”

“What did he shout?”

“He said, ‘this isn’t over, Castiel.’”

“He knew your name?”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t know who these men could have been? That would have your store destroyed?”

Cas was fidgeting again. His eyes darted helplessly around the room and his shoulders slumped forward. Hands shaking he unscrewed the cap of the water bottle that had been given to him and took a sip.

“I can’t be sure.”

Henriksen sighed, expecting the lie but still unhappy to hear it. He flipped through the file until he found what he was looking for, slipping it out from underneath the paperclip.

“Castiel,” he said, sliding the family photograph from Cas’ apartment across the table, “can you tell me what this is a photo of?”

Cas paled as he picked up the photo.

“That’s me, my ex-wife Amelia, and our daughter, Claire. This was probably ten years ago, she was about seven here.”

“When did you and your wife separate?”

“A month after this photo was taken.”

“Can you please describe the symbol on your t-shirt?”

Dean could see the photo shaking in Cas’ hands.

“Can you please make sure my daughter is alright?” Cas asked. “She’s with them right now; she was supposed to come back to me today. I won’t have her taken away from me again. Also my cat, Chuck, has been missing since last night and –“

“Mr. Novak, slow down. Who is Claire with?”

Cas took a deep breath.

“The Garrison. And that’s the symbol on my shirt as well.”

“The cult?”

Cas winced.

“It’s not a cult. It’s a religious movement that I used to belong to. Amelia is still with them.”

“I see.” Henriksen scribbled some notes. Cas followed the movement with his eyes. “When did you leave?”

“I didn’t…leave exactly. I was forcibly removed. As was Claire.”

“Oh? Why was that?”

“They did not agree with my ‘lifestyle choices,’” Cas said with air quotes, “and Claire was the product of an unholy union due to the sins of her father. My marriage to Amelia was annulled and we were forced to leave. That was ten years ago. Claire only goes back to spend Christmas with her mother.”

Cas was seething, still very much affected by the topic at hand. His hands gripped the desk as if he were trying to break it in two.

“Have they ever contacted you since your departure? Were you ever threatened by them?”

“No, they left me alone until…”

“Until?”

Cas shook his head sadly.

“They’ve been trying to get a hold of me recently. They wanted me back in the movement and I said no. I shouldn’t have brushed it off. They called and left some threatening messages, but I really didn’t think they were this dangerous. They’re…well, they were my brothers. We were family once.”

Henriksen looked at Cas with sympathy. Cas kept his eyes on his hands.

“We’ll have to look through your phone records.”

“Alright,” he said, resigned.

“I’m going to ask you again, Mr. Novak. Did you know the men who destroyed your bookstore last night?”

“Of course I can’t say for certain. But my suspicion is that it was members of the Garrison.” He looked up at Henriksen, pleading. “Please, check on my daughter. I can’t lose her again. Promise.”

“I promise, Mr. Novak, we’ll look into it right away.” He stood up, stacking his papers together before putting them back in the folder. “If you don’t mind waiting here, I’ll be back in a little while with some follow up questions. Can I get you anything from the vending machine? Coffee?”

“I just want this to be over,” Cas said, putting his head in his hands.


	6. Maybe I Don't Want Heaven

Henriksen exited the interrogation room and Bobby led him away, talking in low voices. Dean was left with Charlie. He felt numb. His ears were ringing and his heartbeat was in his throat.  _ It’s not a cult. It’s a religious movement that I used to belong to. _

“Winchester?” She said tentatively. “You okay?”

Dean laughed. Laughed so hard his stomach hurt and tears pricked his eyes.

“Winchester…Dean?”

“Some fucking investigator I am,” Dean wheezed. “This is some Sleeping with the Enemy bullshit.”

“Dean, it’s not your –” she put her hand on Dean’s shoulder, but he shook her off.

“Like hell it’s not.” Dean scrubbed his hands over his face. “I need to talk to him.”

“No, I don’t think that’s –“

“Charlie, please.” He looked at her beseechingly. “I have to…I just have to know some things.”

“Five minutes,” she said. “I’ll watch the door and when I knock, you scram. Understood?”

“Understood. Thank you.”

Dean entered the interrogation room and quickly shut the door behind him before he could change his mind. Cas eyed him warily from his seat at the table. Dean couldn’t decide how he felt. He was numb and he was boiling. He wanted to scream and he wanted to cry.  _ Cas lied, he’s only ever lied, he’s a liar.  _ He opened his mouth to speak, but Cas beat him to it.

“How long have you known?” he asked. “Has it been the whole time?”

Dean paused, all his thoughts and accusations disappearing.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve been using me!” Cas yelled. Dean took an involuntary step back. “This entire time I thought you liked me, but you were using me for your investigation. You knew I used to be a member.”

“I’ve been using  _ you _ ?” He yelled, incredulous. “How do I know you weren’t keeping tabs on me and informing your cult buddies? I gave you information about the investigation I…I trusted you.”

“Dean, I swear I didn’t,” he said, hands out in front of him in a defensive posture, “I didn’t know it was them you were investigating. You never told me the name, I never thought…God, and I feel like an idiot that I didn’t see it sooner, but I was scared. I didn’t want you to know.”

Dean squared his shoulders, ready to get in his face, maybe put up a fight, but then he looked in Cas’ eyes. He was hurt. Christ, even after all the lies, Dean couldn’t see him hurt. Dean relaxed his shoulders and put his hands up in surrender. Cas didn’t relax.

“You think I’d be this upset if I had known you used to be in the very cult I’ve spent years investigating?”

Cas looked at him for several long moments, eyes darting across several points in his face before deciding he was telling the truth. He let out a breath.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Cas?”

“It’s not something I like to advertise about myself. And I didn’t know….I never dreamed they were capable…I really didn’t know it was them committing those horrible crimes, Dean, I didn’t.” Cas collapsed back into his chair. “Even if I wanted to say something, I didn’t have anything actionable. I thought I could handle them myself. Telling the police would mean revealing my past.” He looked pleadingly at Dean. “Do you believe me?”

“I do, Cas. Of course I do.”

Dean walked around the table and stood behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Cas reached up and took his hand.

“They tried to burn down my bookstore. Part of them probably hoped I would go down with it. I don’t think they’re planning on letting Claire leave.”

“We don’t know that yet,” Dean said. “But we’re gonna make sure that doesn’t happen.”

There was a rapid knocking on the door.

“I’ve gotta go,” Dean said. Cas tightened his grip on Dean’s hand.

“Don’t leave.”

“I’m not gonna be able to help you from here, babe.” Dean leaned down and kissed Cas on the head. “You’ll be okay, just tell the truth.”

There was more urgent knocking and Dean swiftly left the room, narrowly missing being caught by Bobby and Henriksen as they rounded the corner.

“Well?” Dean asked.

“We’ve got some more questions,” Henriksen said.

“He’s not involved.”

“I don’t think he is either, son, but our word don’t exactly cut it,” Bobby said.

“Have we checked on Claire yet?”

“We’ve got Hanscum on it,” Henriksen said. “They’re attempting to contact the compound now.”

Cas was grilled again for over an hour. He was asked to repeat a lot of the same answers, give specific times and dates of his involvement with The Garrison, and alibis for every known attack. Reassured that Cas was in good hands, Dean eventually wandered away to where Agent Hanscum was seated by a phone. She was resting her chin in her hands, the phone on speaker playing hold music that sounded like a bastardized version of Fur Elise.

“Any luck?” Dean asked.

“Not yet,” Hanscum yawned. “Ya know I’ve already been hung up on twice? I think I’ve finally found the right people to get a hold of, but these are not very welcoming folk.”

“Well, I don’t think they were planning to negotiate anything,” Dean said.

“We’re not planning to tell them we’re FBI,” she said. “They might move her if they think there’s a chance of further investigation.”

The hold music turned to a dial tone and clicked as a phone was picked up on the other end of the line.

“This is Elder Uriel. Speaking?” A deep voice spoke from the phone. Dean knew that voice. And he knew that name as well; the man had a whole file to himself. An image jumped to the front of Dean’s mind from several months ago, two men arguing with Cas in his bookstore. Cas asking them to leave as soon as he saw Dean was there. It was the morning Dean had come to apologize for his drunken propositions.

“Shit,” Dean muttered aloud. Hanscum threw him a look.

“Hiya, my name is Donna Hanscum, I’m calling on behalf of Castiel Novak.”

“In regards to?” Uriel replied. He sounded bored and mildly inconvenienced.

“His daughter, Claire. She was supposed to return to him today and we haven’t seen her. Her cell keeps going straight to voicemail.”

“Cellular phones are not permitted in the Garrison. And as for Claire Novak, she will be remaining here with us.”

“As I understand it her father has legal custody –“

“Her father,” he interrupted, “is an abomination. She will do better with us, Miss…Hanscum was it? And what exactly is your relation to Castiel?”

“I’m a friend,” she said. To Dean she whispered, “Get A.D. Singer and Bradbury.”

Dean sprinted down the hall and found both of them still waiting outside the interrogation room. They both followed him back where Hanscum was now speaking heatedly on the phone.

“If you could just let me speak with Claire for a second –“

“That will not be necessary. She is happy here, with her real family.” he said. “Please tell Castiel that we welcome his return at any time and we are willing to help him. He need only come home.”

With that the phone line clicked and went dead.

“Well,” she said, “at least we knew she’s there. And seemingly safe even if she’s being kept against her will.”

“I don’t get it,” Dean said. “They kicked both of them out years ago and suddenly they want them back?”

“Damage control,” Charlie said. “You weren’t there when he mentioned it, but I guess Cas used to be Uriel’s superior. He was pretty high up in rank when he left. Maybe he knows some secrets that they don’t want to risk getting out.”

“So, what do we do about Claire?” Hanscum asked.

“I say we bust in there rescue mission style,” Dean said.

“As badass as that sounds, we would be risking our entire investigation for one girl,” Charlie said. “If they aren’t already on guard, they sure would be after that.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Bobby said. “But you ain’t gonna like it.”

\---

“I’ll do it,” Cas said.

“Listen, Cas, you don’t have to,” Dean said. “There are other ways.”

“But this is the best way, correct?”

Dean stayed silent, crossing his arms.

“Remember, we’ll have our entire task force and a SWAT team stationed outside the compound the entire time,” Charlie said. “You’ll have a wire on you so we can hear everything that’s going on. Best case scenario, you get them to implicate themselves in the crimes and leave with Claire. If you can only get one of those things, that’s fine. If you can’t get them to do either of those things, just focus on getting yourself out of there and safe. We know that they can be violent when it suits them.”

“I can handle them,” Cas said.

“Good,” Bobby said. “We’ll have everything ready in two hours.”

He had tried to join the fray in preparations for later, but Charlie just smiled kindly and said, “Go take care of your man, Dean. We’ve got this from here.” So Dean ran to the nearest takeout place and hurried back to Cas. Dean found him huddled on a couch in an unused breakroom.

“Hope you like Chinese,” Dean said, handing him a carton of fried rice. Cas smiled meekly.

“I do, thank you. Though I’m not sure how much of an appetite I have right now.”

“You haven’t eaten all day, Cas. Try and have a little bit. For my sanity if nothing else.”

Cas indulged him and took a couple bites. Dean sat on the couch next to him, stirring lo mein with his chopsticks.

“I thought I’d never have to go back there,” he said eventually.

“You don’t have to, Cas,” Dean said. “It’s not too late that we can’t figure something else out.”

Cas shook his head.

“No. I won’t let them push me around any longer. Especially now that they have my daughter. I want to do it, Dean.”

“Alright, that’s…” Dean took a deep breath. “I get it. It’s your call.”

They ate for several minutes in silence. Dean had so many things he wanted to say, but everything seemed to be stuck in his throat. He nervously chewed on his chopsticks and stopped himself from speaking at least twice before Cas took pity on him.

“It’s okay if you have questions for me, Dean.”

“How did you end up with these people anyway?” he blurted out.

“I was born into it,” Cas said. “My family had been members of the Garrison for generations. It’s quite an old movement though it had always stayed underground. It was never interested in expanding until now. Amelia, her family joined the movement when she was twelve, and our marriage was arranged after her confirmation at thirteen.”

“Wow.” Dean blinked. “So you really never had a choice.”

“I used to feel immense satisfaction from my faith in the Garrison,” he said, frowning at his rice. “I believed our path to be righteous. As I grew older, I began to have doubts. My reputation was tarnished long before the issue of my sexuality.”

“How did they even find out, anyway? Was it some kind of witch hunt or…?”

“No, I…you have to understand, I did love Amelia,” he said. Dean was surprised at the spark of possessiveness he felt, even knowing Amelia was long since in the past. “I trusted her, but I no longer felt right having to lie to her every day. I confided my feelings to her and she begged me to receive the Garrison’s counseling. She believed I could change. So I went.”

“Obviously, the conversion therapy didn’t work,” Dean grumbled, trying his best to reign in his temper.

“Not only that,” Cas smirked, “I had an affair with my counselor. My male counselor.”

“Holy shit.”

“That went on for several months. I was already being shunned by the community, they had all figured out what I was in counseling for. When they discovered the affair I was exiled.”

“I’m glad you’re rid of them, but they should have never treated you that way.”

Dean reached out and took Cas’ hand. Cas sighed and leaned into Dean’s shoulder.

“There was one other thing you said,” Dean began. “That Claire’s been taken from you before.”

“Yes. When I left the Garrison…I was directionless. We were homeless, moving from shelter to shelter for over a year. I relied heavily on alcohol for support. Social services took Claire away. She lived in foster homes most of her childhood. That’s why I started going to A.A. meetings. I didn’t get her back until she was a teenager.”

“I’m so sorry, Cas.”

“Don’t be sorry. That was my own failings as a father. But I’m not going to fail her again.”

Dean clutched Cas to his side.

“Promise me you’ll be safe.” He was ashamed at how choked up he sounded.

“Dean,” Cas took his face in both hands, his blue eyes wide, “everything will be fine.”

Dean leaned in and kissed him. He was aiming for tender but it quickly turned into bruising. Cas kissed him back just as hard, leaning into his body and somehow ending up in his lap.

“I’m gonna be there for you, okay?” Dean promised as Cas lined his throat with kisses, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re a good man, Dean Winchester,” Cas said, kissing each of his eyelids. Dean slid his hands under Cas’ shirt and held him close.

Dean wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, rocking their bodies close together and just kissing. Long enough, apparently, for Charlie to walk in and find them. Dean couldn’t find it in himself to care. He only gripped him tighter.

\---

The only sound on the audio feed was the soft rustling of Castiel’s shirt. The task force was set up in a trailer around the corner from the Garrison’s compound, a small area in the foothills about thirty minutes north of Sacramento. It was a location the FBI had known about, but never had real cause to visit in person. From outside it looked like it could be a gated community, unobtrusive with several residences and communal halls. It was almost hard to believe there was something more sinister going on underneath.

Castiel had gotten through security with no problem. There was a brief panic when they realized he was receiving a pat down, but they were only checking for weapons, not wires. The sound of a knock on a heavy door was picked up on the audio, along with a muffled, “Enter.”

“Elder Uriel,” Cas said. “I’ve come about my daughter.”

“Ah, Castiel,” Uriel said. “I see your…friend passed along the message.”

Charlie removed her headphones.

“Do you think he knows?” she whispered.

“He might suspect, but he seems to be going along with it anyways,” Dean whispered back.

“I was told you would speak with me,” Cas said.

“Of course, take a seat.”

There was more rustling, the sound of chair legs scraping across a floor.

“Where is she?”

“All in good time, brother,” Uriel said.

“Oh, am I your brother again?”

“You will always be our brother, Castiel. You merely lost your way. We would like to help you return to the righteous path.”

“I see,” Cas said. His tone betrayed no emotions. “I would like to speak to my daughter now.”

“And we will happily reunite you,” Uriel said, “upon your recommitment to the Garrison.”

“Very well,” Cas said without hesitation.

“What is he doing?” Bobby hissed.

“Trust him, he knows how these people think,” Dean said, though his words were slightly more confident than he felt.

“Excellent,” Uriel said, “I’ll just draw up some paperwork then we can discuss your reentry.”

“Of course,” Cas said. “However, you should know I still suffer the same affliction that caused me to leave in the first place. What can we do about it?”

“We failed you before, Castiel. For which we deeply apologize. But we have new strategies now, stronger than before. We don’t just preach our beliefs, we uphold them. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at some of the changes we’ve made.”

“Like the clinics,” Castiel said. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

Uriel chuckled.

“And so much more. That’s small potatoes compared to the plans we have ahead of us. We will be feared, Castiel, and respected.”

They all set down their headphones.

“That sound like probable cause to you, fellas?” Charlie asked.

“I’ll radio the SWAT team.”

The task force exited the trailer, Kevlar vests in place and guns in hand. The SWAT team was already descending upon the compound, all exits blocked and area being secured. Dean led the task force to the building off the first left where Cas was meeting with Uriel. The SWAT team was already inside, leading Garrison members outside one by one with hands on their heads. Dean heard a crash at the end of a hallway and raced toward the sound. He heard Cas yelling.

“You leadership only breeds violence and hate! These are not the things the Garrison stood for!”

Another crash, and the sound of somebody’s fist connecting with a jaw. Dean forced himself through the door and aimed his gun at Uriel.

“Hands above your head!” he shouted. “Now!”

Uriel’s hands had been clenched on the front of Cas’ jacket, but he dropped them and Cas sank to the floor. His lip was split and blood dribbled down his chin. For what it was worth, Uriel also looked like he’d taken an elbow to the eye.

“What is this?” Uriel sneered. Charlie entered the room and Dean kept his gun trained on him as she pulled out a pair of cuffs.

“You’re under arrest for several counts of arson, criminal damage, kidnapping, and attempted murder. And that’s just for starters.”

“You,” he said, glaring at Castiel. “We will not forget this, Castiel.”

Henriksen and Hanscum helped escort Uriel out while Bradbury read him his Miranda Rights. Dean ran to Cas’ side.

“Hey, you alright?”

“I’ve had worse,” Cas said, spitting blood onto the wood flooring. “To be fair, I started it.”

Dean shook his head and helped him up, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

“C’mon, there’s an ambulance out front. Let’s get you checked out.”

As they hobbled outside the noise blended into the background. There were dozens of people being gathered together by the SWAT team and the task force, all of the higher ups being taken into custody. Dean had just closed probably the biggest case of his career and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. All he could feel was the weight of Cas pressing into his side, the sound of his breathing, the warmth from his skin. Dean was struck with a million sudden emotions about this brilliant, courageous man who Dean was only beginning to become brave enough to call his own.

“Dad!”

Claire broke free from a clump of people and came racing over to Dean and Cas. An agent stepped up to stop her but Dean waved them away. Claire clutched at her father.

“Dad, what the hell? What’s going on and why do you look like shit on a stick?”

“Language, young lady,” Cas croaked, pulling his daughter in for a hug.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you where I was,” she said, holding back tears. “But they wouldn’t let me leave and there aren’t any phones. Mom didn’t know anything about it, it’s not her fault.”

“I’m just glad I have you back,” Cas said.

The three of them stumbled to the ambulance and an EMT took a look at Cas’ bruises and lip. Dean put a possessive hand on the small of Cas’ back and kissed him on the cheek. Claire beamed.

“You’re lucky,” the EMT said, “all your teeth are intact and you don’t seem to have a concussion. Just keep ice on that lip for the swelling.”

Dean took the ice pack and dabbed it gently against Cas’ face as he hissed through his teeth at the sting.

“Jesus Cas, didn’t you promise me you’d be safe?” Dean admonished.

“I knew I was safe,” he said, smiling up at Dean , his teeth tinged pink, “I have you.”


	7. Epilogue – Three Months Later, the Lafayette Park Hotel

Cas was breathing heavily underneath him, his skin tan against the stark white hotel sheets. Dean lazily grinded his naked hips down against him and Cas moaned. Dean grazed his teeth against Cas’ earlobe.

“I want you,” Dean said.

Cas flipped them over and slotted a leg between Dean’s thighs as he leaned down to map the freckles across Dean’s shoulders with his lips. Dean figured Cas had them all memorized by now.

“Are you sure?” Cas murmured against his skin, sliding his hand down Dean’s belly. He stopped short of exactly where Dean wanted his hand to be, letting his fingers trace along the jut of Dean’s hip bones.

“I swear if you don’t take me right now, Castiel-“

“Alright,” he chuckled, reaching to get the lube off the nightstand. “I just think you should know I would be perfectly happy doing only this all day long.”

“Yeah, well we don’t got all day,” Dean reminded him, “besides, you know drive me fucking cra – oh, fuck.”

Cas pressed a slick finger inside him, gently but quick, waiting a moment for Dean to relax around it. Dean’s cock lay heavy on his stomach, but he twisted his hands in the sheets instead of touching himself, focusing all of his attention on Cas’ finger fucking in and out of him.

Cas mouthed kisses along the inside of his thighs as he slid another finger in. Dean’s back arched off of the bed, moan caught in his throat. Cas pressed his fingers up inside him, rubbing his prostate, and Dean nearly choked.

“Cas, please.”

“You’re not ready.”

“Then can you not try and kill me in the meantime?”

“No.”

Cas stayed Dean’s hips with his free hand and moved his fingers faster, still occasionally brushing against his prostate. By the time he added a third finger Dean had tears in his eyes. Cas slowly slipped his fingers out and Dean let out a shaky breath. Cas climbed up his body and kissed the corners of his eyes, dragged his lips down the bridge of Dean’s nose and kissed him on the mouth. He sat up for a moment, grabbing some extra pillows and tapping the side of Dean’s hip. Dean obediently lifted his hips off the bed and Cas shoved the pillows underneath him. He poured more lube in the palm of his hands before leaning over Dean to suck on his bottom lip, stroking himself as he did. Cas kissed him breathless as he lined himself up and slowly pushed in. Kissing turned into gasping as Cas started to move.

Cas was beautiful above him, all strong shoulders and wild dark hair. His brilliant blue eyes were blown nearly black. His mouth was swollen and red from the stubble burn. Dean reached around and scratched his nails down Cas’ back. Dean let out a choked noise as Cas sped up his thrusts.

“I want to hear you,” Cas said, his voice rough.

“I’m sure the rooms next door don’t.”

Cas pushed into him hard and Dean let out an involuntary shout.

Just then Dean’s phone started ringing on the end table and Cas slowed down.

“Should we…?”

“No,” Dean growled, wrapping his legs around Cas’ ass, “c’mon, angel, faster.”

Cas complied, placing his hands on Dean’s hips and moving Dean farther up the bed with each thrust.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck Cas…”

“Touch yourself,” Cas commanded.

Dean reached down and took his until now completely abandoned dick in hand. Touch was almost too much at this point, all his muscles tightening on the first stroke.

“That’s it, Dean,” Cas crooned. “You are so sweet, look at you. So good for me.”

Dean let out a strangled gasp and came all over his stomach and chest. Cas followed shortly, filling Dean with hot fluid. Cas collapsed on top of him and Dean peppered his face with light kisses.

Dean’s phone rang again.

“You should probably get that,” Cas mumbled, pulling out and rolling off of Dean.

Dean groaned, flopping his hand on the end table and grabbing his phone.

“Hello?”

“Dean?” Sam’s voice sounded annoyed. “Where the hell are you? Everyone was supposed to meet in the ballroom fifteen minutes ago.”

“Relax, Sammy,” Dean said, “I’ll be there in five.”

Cas gave him a look and went to the bathroom to start running the shower.

“Why do you sound like you’re out of breath?”

“Well, Sam, when two consenting adults love each other very much –“

“Oh my God, shut up. I’m two seconds away from making Garth my best man.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Five minutes.”

Dean rolled his eyes and ended the call.

“Come on,” Cas said, coming back into the bedroom and taking Dean’s hand, leading him to the bathroom. “Quick rinse or your brother will never forgive me.”

\---

The ceremony started on time in spite of Sam’s griping. Dean stood next to his brother at the back of the courtyard. Trees were filled with fairy lights and paper lanterns crisscrossed above them. More lanterns lined the aisle that Garth’s little daughter was now gleefully dropping periwinkle petals down. The music changed and all of the guests stood as the bride entered the courtyard.

Eileen wore an ivory dress with an empire waist; lace covered the bust and straps. The fabric draped smoothly over her stomach, hiding the bump that had just started showing. Her smile was so wide it completely covered the lower half of her face.

Dean turned to look at Sam, only to find he had started crying. Dean had been prepared. He smoothly pressed a tissue into Sam’s hand. Sam looked down, surprised, and laughed. He quickly wiped his eyes and put the tissue in his pocket.

Each of them spoke and signed their vows at the same time. Dean caught Cas watching him from his seat among the guests. Dean quickly signed to him.

_ “You are my world.” _

Cas grinned and signed back.

_ “I love you.” _

His brother and Eileen kissed and everyone applauded. After all the sadness, confusion, and hurt in their family they finally had something good to hold on to. Dean didn’t want to let of the good things in his life either. He looked Cas in the eyes and signed,

_ “Can we get married next?” _

Cas stared with wide eyes before a slow smile spread across his face.

_ “Yes.” _

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all had as much fun reading this as I had working on it! Please remember to check out Marmatoad's [art masterpost!](http://marmatoad.tumblr.com/post/153361849593/dcbb-2016-title-without-losing-a-piece-of-me) You can also come say hello to me on tumblr at [edgarallanrose](http://edgarallanrose.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Please, if you enjoyed this, leave a comment or kudos! I love interacting with the fandom and always appreciate feedback <3 Thanks for reading!


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